ORIGINAL   PLAYS. 


ORIGINAL  PLATS 


BY 


W.    S.    GILBERT, 


RTefci  ff  orfc : 

SCRIBNER,   ARMSTRONG,   &   CO. 
1876. 


i       ! 


Stereotyped  and  printed  by 

Rand,  Avery,  and  Company, 

117  Franklin  Street, 

Boston. 


N  NOTE. 

The  Story  upon  which  '  The  Palace  of  Truth'  is 
founded  is  probably  as  old  as  the  'Arabian  Nights' 
'  The  -Princess '  is  a  respectful  parody  of  Mr.  Tennyson's 
exquisite  poem.  It  has  been  generally  held,  I  believe,  that 
if  a  dramatist  uses  the  mere  outline  of  an  existing  story 
for  dramatic  purposes,  he  is  at  liberty  to  describe  his  play 

as  "original" 

W.   S.    GILBERT. 

London,  Nov.  18,  1875. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

THE  WICKED  WORLD    ...  .13 

PYGMALION  AND  GALATEA         ....         75 

CHARITY •  137 

THE  PRINCESS  ....  .213 

THE  PALACE  OF  TRUTH 267 

TRIAL  BY  JURY 343 


THE    WICKED    WORLD 
^n  ©rigitral  Jfoirg 


IN  THREE  ACTS. 


DRAMATIS    PERSONS. 

FAIRIES. 

ETHAIS       MR.  KENDAL. 

PHYLLON         MR.  ARNOTT. 

LUTIN  (a  Serving  Fairy)         ...  MR.  BUCKSTONE. 
SELENE  (a  Fairy  Queen)    ...        Miss  MADGE  ROBERTSON. 

DARINE      Miss  AMY  ROSELLE. 

ZAYDA Miss  M.  LITTON. 

LEILA         Miss  HARRISON. 

NEODIE  Miss  HENRI. 

LOCRINE     Miss  FRANCIS. 

MORTALS. 

SIR  ETHAIS     MR.  KENDAL. 

SIR  PHYLLON       MR.  ARNOTT. 

LUTIN  (Sir  Ethais's  Henchman)  MR.  BUCKSTONE. 

SCENE:  IN  FAIRY  LAND. 


*#*  The  action  is  comprised  within  the  space  of 
twenty-four  hours. 


PROLOGUE. 

Spoken  by  MR.  BUCKSTONE. 

THE  Author  begs  you'll  kind  attention  pay 

While  I  explain  the  object  of  his  play. 

You  have  been  taught,  no  doubt,  by  those  professing 

To  understand  the  thing,  that  Love's  a  blessing : 

Well,  he  intends  to  teach  you  the  reverse  — 

That  Love  is  not  a  blessing,  but  a  curse ! 

But  pray  do  not  suppose  it's  his  intent 

To  do  without  this  vital  element  — 

His  drama  would  be  in  a  pretty  mess  ! 

With  quite  as  fair  a  prospect  of  success, 

Might  a  dispensing  chemist  in  his  den 

Endeavor  to  dispense  with  oxygen. 

Too  powerful  an  agent  to  pooh-pooh, 

There  will  be  Love  enough  I  warrant  you : 

But  as  the  aim  of  every  play's  to  show 

That  Love's  essential  to  all  men  below, 

He  uses  it  to  prove,  to  all  who  doubt  it, 

How  well  all  men  —  but  he  —  can  do  without  it. 

To  prove  his  case  (a  poor  one,  I  admit), 

He  begs  that  with  him  you  will  kindly  flit 

To  a  pure  fairy-land  that's  all  his  own, 

Where  mortal  love  is  utterly  unknown. 


12  PROLOGUE. 


Whose  beings,  spotless  as  new-fallen  snow, 
Know  nothing  of  the  Wicked  World  belq.w. 
(  These  gentle  sons  and  daughters  of  the  air, 
Safe,  in  their  eyrie,  from  temptation's  snare, 
Have  yet  one  little  fault  I  must  confess  — 
An  overweening  sense  of  righteousness. 
As  perfect  silence,  undisturbed  for  years, 
Will  breed  at  length  a  humming  in  the  ears, 
So  from  their  very  purity  within 
Arise  the  promptings  of  their  only  sin. 
Forgive  them  !     No  ?     Perhaps  you  will  relent 
When  you  appreciate  their  punishment ! 

But  prithee  be  not  led  too  far  away, 

By  the  hack  author  of  a  mere  stage-play : 

It's  easy  to  affect  this  cynic  tone, 

But,  let  me  ask  you,  had  the  world  ne'er  known 

Such  Love  as  you,  and  I,  and  he,  must  mean  — 

Pray  where  would  you,  or  I,  or  he,  have  been  ? 


THE  WICKED  WORLD. 


ACT    I. 

SCENE  —  Fairy  Land.  A  beautiful,  but  fanciful 
landscape,  which  is  supposed  to  lie  on  the  tipper 
side  of  a  clou'd.  The  cloud  is  suspended  over 
the  earth,  a  portion  of  which  (representing  "  a 
bird  's-eye  view "  of  a  mediczval  city),  is  seen, 
far  below,  through  a  rent  or  gap  in  the  cloitd. 

As  the  curtain  rises  ZAYDA  is  discovered  standing 
in  a  thoughtful  attitude,  contemplating  the 
world  at  her  feet.  To  her  enters  DARINE. 

Dar.  My  sister,  Zayda,  thou  art  deep  in  thought, 
What  quaint  conjecture  fills  thy  busy  brain  ? 

Zay.  Oh !    sister,    it's     my     old     and     favorite 

theme  — 

That  wonderful  and  very  wicked  world 
That  rolls  in  silent  cycles  at  our  feet ! 

Dar.  In  truth  a  fruitful  source  of  wonderment ! 

Zay.  Fruitful  indeed  —  a  harvest  without  end  ! 
The   world  —  the    wicked    world !    the   wondrous 
world! 


•      13 
VFBSX' 

,.  § 


i4  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

I  love  to  sit  alone  and  gaze  on  it, 

And  let  my  fancy  wander  through  its  towns, 

Float  on  its  seas  and  rivers  —  interchange 

Communion  with  its  strange  inhabitants : 

People  its  cities  with  fantastic  shapes, 

Fierce,  wild,  barbaric  forms  —  all  head  and  tail, 

With   monstrous   horns,  and   blear  and   bloodshot 

eyes, 
As  all  should  have  who  deal  in  wickedness ! 

Enter  PHYLLON. 

Oh,  Phyllon  !  picture  to  thyself  a  town 
Peopled  with  men  and  women  !     At  each  turn, 
Men  —  wicked  men  —  then,  farther  on,  more  men, 
Then  women  —  then  again  more  men  —  more  men — 
Men,  women,  everywhere  —  all  ripe  for  crime, 
All  ghastly  in  the  lurid  light  of  sin  ! 

Enter  SELENE. 

PhyL  In  truth,  dear  sister,  if  man's  face  and  form 
Were  a  true  index  to  his  character, 
He  were  a  hideous  thing  to  look  upon  ; 
But  man,  alas  !  is  formed  as  we  are  formed. 
False  from  the  first,  he  comes  into  the  world 
Bearing  a  smiling  lie  upon  his  face, 
That  he  may  cheat  ere  he  can  use  his  tongue. 

Zay.  Oh  !  I  have  heard  these  things,  but  heed 

them  not. 

I  like  to  picture  him  as  he  should  be, 
Unsightly  and  unclean.     I  like  to  pair 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  15 

Misshapen  bodies  with  misshapen  minds. 

Set.  Dost  thou  not  know  that  every  soul  on  earth 
Hath  in  our  ranks  his  outward  counterpart  ? 

Dar.  His  outward  counterpart ! 

Set.  Tis  even  so  ; 

Yes,  on  that  world  —  that  very  wicked  world  — 
Thou  —  I  —  and  all  who  dwell  in  fairy  land, 
May  find  a  parallel  identity : 
A  perfect  counterpart  in  outward  form ; 
So  perfect  that,  if  it  were  possible 
To  place  us  by  these  earthly  counterparts, 
No  man  on  earth,  no  fairy  in  the  clouds, 
Could  tell  which  was  the  fairy  —  which  the  man  ! 

Zay.  Is  there  no  shade  of  difference  ? 

Phyl.  Yes,  one ; 

For  we  are  absolutely  free  from  sin, 
While  all  our  representatives  on  earth 
Are  stained  with  every  kind  of  infamy. 

Dar.  Are  all  our  counterparts  so  steeped  in  sin  ? 

Phyl.  All,  in  a  greater  or  a  less  degree. 

Zay.  What,  even  mine  ? 

Phyl  Alas ! 

Zay.  Oh,  no  —  not  mine  ! 

Phyl  All  men  and  women  sin. 

Dar.  I  wonder  what 

My  counterpart  is  doing  now  ? 

Sel  Don't  ask. 

No  doubt,  some  fearful  sin  ! 

Dar.  And  what  are  sins  ? 

Sel.  Evils  of  which  we  hardly  know  the  names. 


16  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

There's  vanity  —  a  quaint,  fantastic  vice, 

Whereby  a  mortal  takes  much  credit  for 

The  beauty  of  his  face  and  form,  and  claims 

As  much  applause  for  loveliness  as  though 

He  had  designed  himself  !     Then  jealousy  — 

A  universal  passion  —  one  that  claims 

An  absolute  monopoly  of  love, 

Based  on  the  reasonable  principle 

That  no  one  merits  other  people's  love 

So  much  as  —  every  soul. on  earth  by  turns  ! 

Envy  —  that  grieves  at  other  men's  success, 

As  though  success,  however  placed,  were  not 

A  contribution  to  one  common  fund  ! 

Ambition,  too,  the  vice  of  clever  men 

Who  seek  to  rise  at  others'  cost ;  nor  heed 

Whose  wings  they  cripple,  so  that  they  may  soar. 

Malice  —  the  helpless  vice  of  helpless  fools, 

Who,  as  they  can  not  rise,  hold  others  down, 

That  they,  by  contrast,  may  appear  to  soar. 

Hatred  and  avarice,  untruthfulness, 

Murder  and  rapine,  theft,  profanity  — 

Sins  so  incredible,  so  mean,  so  vast, 

Our  nature  stands  appalled  when  it  attempts 

To  grasp  their  terrible  significance. 

Such  are  the  vices  of  that  wicked  world  ! 

Enter  ETHAIS,  LOCRINE,  NEDDIE,  LEILA,  and 
other  Fairies. 

Eth.  My  brothers,  sisters,  Lutin  has  returned, 
After  a  long  delay,  from  yonder  earth  : 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  17 

The  first  of  all  our  race  who  has  set  foot 
Upon  that  wicked  world.     See  !  he  is  here  ! 

Enter  LUTIN. 

Sel.  Good  welcome,  Lutin,  back  to  fairy  land  ! 
So  thou  hast  been  to  earth  ? 

Lut.  I  have  indeed  ! 

Sel.  What  hast  thou  seen  there  ? 

Lut.  Better  not  inquire. 
It  is  a  very,  very  wicked  world ! 
I  went,  obedient  to  our  King's  command, 
To  meet  him  in  mid-earth.     He  bade  me  go 
And  send  both  Ethais  and  Phyllon  there. 

Eth.  Down  to  mid-earth  ? 

Lut.  Down  to  mid-earth  at  once. 

He  hath  some  gift,  some  priceless  privilege 
With  which  he  would  endow  our  fairy  world  ; 
And  he  hath  chosen  Phyllon  and  thyself 
To  bear  his  bounty  to  this  home  of  ours. 

Zay.  Another  boon  ?     Why,  brother  Ethais, 
What  can  our  monarch  give  that  we  have  not  ? 

Eth.  In  truth,  I  can  not  say  —  'twould  seem  that 

we 
Had  reached  the  sum  of  fairy  happiness  ! 

Sel.  But  then  we  thought  the  same,  before  our 

King 

Endowed  us  with  the  gift  of  melody  ; 
And  now,  how  tame  our  fairy  life  would  seem 
Were  melody  to  perish  from  our  land  ! 

Phyl.  Well  said,  Selene.     Come,  then,  let's  away, 
2*  (going) 


i8  THE   WICKED  WORLD. 

And  on  our  journey  through  the  outer  world 
We  will  take  note  of  its  inhabitants, 
And  bring  you  fair  account  of  all  we  see. 
Farewell,  dear  sisters  ! 

[Exeunt  PHYLLON  and  ETHAIS. 

Sel.  Brothers,  fare-you-well. 

(To  LUTIN.) 
And  thou  hast  really  met  a  living  man  ? 

Lut.  I  have  indeed  —  and  living  women  too  ! 

Zay.  And  thou  hast  heard  them  speak,  and  seen 

their  ways, 
And  didst  thou  understand  them  when  they  spake  ? 

Lilt.  I  understand  that  what  I  understood 
No  fairy  being  ought  to  understand. 
I  see  that  almost  every  thing  I  saw 
Is  utterly  improper  to  be  seen. 
Don't  ask  for  details  —  I've  returned  to  you 
With  outraged  senses  and  with  shattered  nerves, 
I  burn  with  blushes  of  indignant  shame. 
Read  my  experiences  in  my  face, 
My  tongue  shall  wither  ere  it  tell  the  tale. 
It  is  a  very,  very  wicked  world  ! 

Dar.  But  surely  man  can  summon  death  at  will  ; 
Why  should  he  live  when  he  at  will  can  die  ? 

Lut.     Why,  that's  the  most  inexplicable  thing. 
I've  seen  upon  that  inconsistent  globe  — 
With  swords  and  daggers  hanging  at  their  sides, 
With  drowning  seas  and  rivers  at  their  feet, 
With  deadly  poison  in  their  very  grasp, 
And  every  implement  of  death  at  hand  — 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  19 

Men  live  —  and  live  —  and  seem  to  like  to  live ! 

\Exit  LUTIN. 

Dar.  How  strangely  inconsistent ! 

Set.  Not  at  all. 

With  all  their  misery,  with  all  their  sin, ' 
With  all  the  elements  of  wretchedness 
That  teem  on  that  unholy  world  of  theirs, 
They  have  one  great  and  ever  glorious  gift, 
That  compensates  for  all  they  have  to  bear  — 
The  gift  of  Love  !     Not  as  we  use  the  word, 
To  signify  mere  tranquil  brotherhood  ; 
But  in  some  sense  that  is  unknown  to  us. 
Their  love  bears  like  relation  to  our  own, 
That  the  fierce  beauty  of  the  noonday  sun 
Bears  to  the  calm  of  a  soft  summer's  eve. 
It  nerves  the  wearied  mortal  with  hot  life, 
And  bathes  his  soul  in  hazy  happiness. 
The  richest  man  is  poor  who  hath  it  not, 
And  he  who  hath  it  laughs  at  poverty. 
It  hath  no  conqueror.     When  death  himself 
Has  worked  his  very  worst,  this  love  of  theirs 
Lives  still  upon  the  loved  one's  memory. 
It  is  a  strange  enchantment,  which  invests 
The  most  unlovely  things  with  loveliness. 
The  maiden,  fascinated  by  this  spell, 
Sees  every  thing  as  she  would  have  it  be : 
Her  squalid  cot  becomes  a  princely  home ; 
Its  stunted  shrubs  are  groves  of  stately  elms  ; 
The  weedy  brook  that  trickles  past  her  door 
Is  a  broad  river  fringed  with  drooping  trees  ; 


20  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

And  of  all  marvels  the  most  marvelous, 
The  coarse  unholy  man  who  rules  her  love 
Is  a  bright  being  —  pure  as  we  are  pure  ; 
Wise  in  his  folly — blameless  in  his  sin  ; 
The  incarnation  of  a  perfect  soul ; 
A  great  and  ever  glorious  demi-god ! 

Dar.  Why,  what  have  we  in  all  our  fairy  land 
To  bear  comparison  with  such  a  gift  ? 

Zay.  Oh  !  for  one  hour  of  such  a  love  as  that ; 
O'er  all  things  paramount !     Why,  after  all, 
That  wicked  world  is  the  true  fairy  land ! 

Loc.  Why,  who  can  wonder  that  poor  erring  man 
Clings  to  the  world,  all  poisoned  though  it  be, 
When  on  it  grows  this  glorious  antidote  ? 

Zay.  And  may  we  never  love  as  mortals  love  ? 

Sel.  No  ;  that  can  never  be.     Of  earthly  things 
This  love  of  theirs  ranks  as  the  earthiest. 
'Tis  necessary  to  man's  mode  of  life ; 
He  could  not  bear  his  load  of  misery 
But  for  the  sweet  enchantment  at  his  heart 
That  tells  him  that  he  bears  no  load  at  all. 
We  do  not  need  it  in  our  perfect  land. 
Moreover,  there's  this  gulf  'twixt  it  and  us : 
Only  a  mortal  can  inspire  such  love ; 
And  mortal  foot  can  never  touch  our  land. 

Zay.  But  —  is  that  so  ? 

Sel.  (surprised).  Of  course. 

Zay.  Yet  I  have  heard 

That  we've  a  half-forgotten  law  which  says, 
That  when  a  fairy  quits  his  fairy  home 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  21 

To  visit  earth,  those  whom  he  leaves  behind 
May  summon  from  the  wicked  world  below 
That  absent  fairy's  mortal  counterpart ; 
And  that  that  mortal  counterpart  may  stay 
In  fairy  land  and  fill  the  fairy's  place 
Till  he  return.     Is  there  not  some  such  law  ? 

Set.  And  if  there  be,  wouldst  put  that  law  in 
force  ?     (horrified). 

Zay.  No ;  not  for  all  the  love  of  all  the  world ! 
(equally  horrified}. 

Sel.  A  man  in  fairy  land  !     Most  horrible ! 
He  would  exhale  the  poison  of  his  soul, 
And  we  should  even  be  as  mortals  are, 
Hating  as  man  hates  ! 

Dar.  (enthusiastically).    Loving   as   man    loves ! 

(SEL.  looks  reproachfully]. 
Too  horrible!     Still  — 

Sel.  Well ! 

Dar.  I  see  a  trace 

Of  wisdom  lurking  in  this  ancient  law. 

Sel.  Where  lurks  this  wisdom,  then  ?    I  see  it  not. 

Dar.  (with  emphasis].  Man  is  a  shameless  being, 

steeped  in  sins 

At  which  our  stainless  nature  stands  appalled  ; 
Yet,  sister,  if  we  took  this  loathsome  soul 
From  yonder  seething  gulf  of  infamy  — 
E'en  but  for  one  short  day  —  and  let  him  see 
The  beauty  of  our  pure,  unspotted  lives, 
He  might  return  to  his  unhappy  world, 
And  trumpet  forth  the  strange  intelligence  : 


22  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

"  Those  men  alone  are  happy  who  are  good." 
Then  would  the  world  immediately  repent, 
And  sin  and  wickedness  be  known  no  more ! 

Loc.  Association  with  so  foul  a  thing 
As  man  must  needs  be  unendurable 
To  souls  as  pure  and  sinless  as  our  own  : 
Yet,  sister  dear,  it  has  occurred  to  me, 
That  his  foul  deeds,  perchance,  proceed  from  this  — 
That  we  have  kept  ourselves  too  much  aloof, 
And  left  him  to  his  blind  and  wayward  will. 

Zay.  Man  is  every  thing  detestable  — 
Base  in  his  nature,  base  in  thought  and  deed, 
Loathsome  beyond  all  things  that  creep  and  crawl ! 
Still,  sister,  I  must  own  I've  sometimes  thought 
That  we  who  shape  the  fortunes  of  mankind, 
And  grant  such  wishes  as  are  free  from  harm, 
Might  possibly  fulfill  our  generous  task 
With  surer  satisfaction  to  himself 
Had  we  some  notion  what  these  wishes  were ! 

Neo.  We  give  him  every  thing  but  good  advice, 
And  that  which  most  he  needs  do  we  withhold. 

Dar.  Oh  !  terrible,  dear  sister,  to  reflect, 
That  to  our  cold  and  culpable  neglect, 
The  folly  of  the  world  is  chargeable  ! 

Set.  To  our  neglect ! 

Zay.  It  may  in  truth  be  so. 

Lei.  In  very  truth  I'm  sure  that  it  is  so. 

Set.  Oh  !  horrible  !     It  shall  be  so  no  more. 
A  light  breaks  over  me !     Their  sin  is  ours  ! 
But  there  —  'tis  easy  still  to  make  amends. 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  23 

A  mortal  shall  behold  our  blameless  state, 
And  learn  the  beauties  of  a  sinless  life  ! 
Come,  let  us  summon  mortal  Ethais. 

Dar.  But  — 

Sel.  Not  a  word  —  I  am  resolved  to  this. 

Neo.  But  sister  — 

Sel.  Well  ? 

Neo.  (timidly).  Why  summon  only  one  ? 

Sel.  Why  summon  more  ? 

Neo.  The  world's  incredulous  ; 

Let  two  be  brought  into  our  blameless  land, 
Then  should  their  wondrous  story  be  received 
With  ridicule  or  incredulity, 
One  could  corroborate  the  other. 

Dar.  Yes  — 

Phyllon  has  gone  with  Ethais.     Let  us  call 
The  mortal  counterpart  of  Phyllon  too  — 

Sel.  Two  mortals  —  two  unhappy  men  of  sin 
In  this  untainted  spot ! 

Loc.  Well,  sister  dear, 

Two  Heralds  of  the  Truth  will  spread  that  Truth 
At  the  least  twice  as  rapidly  as  one, 

Sel.  Two  miserable  men  !     Why,  one  alone 
Will  bring  enough  pollution  in  his  wake, 
To  taint  our  happy  land  from  end  to  end ! 

Zay.  Then,  sister,  two  won't  make  the  matter 
worse ! 

Sel.  There's  truth  in  that.  (After  a  pause).     The 

two  shall  come  to  us. 
We  have  deserved  this  fearful  punishment ; 


24  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 


Our  power,  I  think,  is  limited  to  two  ? 

Lei.  Unfortunately. 

Set.  Yes  —  more  might  be  done 

Had  each  of  us  a  pupil  to  herself. 
Now  then  to  summon  them.     But,  sisters  all, 
Show  no  repugnance  to  these  wretched  men ; 
Remember  that,  all  odious  though  they  be, 
They  are  our  guests ;  in  common  courtesy 
Subdue  your  natural  antipathies  ; 
Be  very  gentle  with  them,  bear  with  them, 
Be  kind,  forbearing,  tender,  pitiful. 
Receive  them  with  that  gentle  sister  love, 
That  forms  the  essence  of  our  fairyhood  ; 
Let  no  side-thought  of  their  unholy  lives 
Intrude  itself  upon  your  charity  ; 
Treat  them  as  though  they  were  what  they  will  be 
When  they  have  seen  how  we  shall  be  to  them. 
What  is  the  form  ? 

Dar.  Two  roses  newly  plucked 

Should  each  in  turn  be  cast  upon  the  earth ; 
Then,  as  each  rose  is  thrown,  pronounce  the  name 
Of  him  whose  mortal  self  it  typifies. 
Here  are  two  roses  plucked  from  yonder  tree. 

SeL  (taking  them).  Well  then,  fair  rose,  I  name 

thee  Ethais !  — 
Go,  send  thy  mortal  namesake  to  our  cloud  ; 

(throws  rose  to  earth). 
'Tis  done  ;  conceal  yourselves  till  they  appear ! 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  25 

The  fairies  conceal  themselves.  Hurried  music  ; 
to  which  enter  SIR  ETHAIS  and  SIR  PHYLLON, 
hurriedly,  over  the  edge  of  cloud,  as  if 
impelled  by  some  invisible  and  irresistible 
power  f row  below.  SIR  ETHAIS  and  SIR 
PHYLLON  have  their  swords  drawn.  They 
are  dressed  as  barbaric  knights,  and,  while 
bearing  a  facial  resemblance  to  their  fairy 
counterparts,  present  as  strong  a  contrast  as 
possible  in  their  costume  and  demeanor. 

Sir  Eth.  Why,  help,  help,  help ! 

Sir  Phy.  The  devil  seize  us  all ! 

Why,  what  strange  land  is  this  ?     How  came  we 
here  ? 

Sir  Eth.  How  came  we  here  ?     Why,  who  can 

answer  that 
So  well  as  thou  ? 

Sir  Phy.  As  I  ? 

Sir  Eth.  Yes,  cur  ;  as  thou  ! 

This  is  some  devil's  game  of  thy  design, 
To  scare  me  from  the  task  I  set  myself 
When  we  crossed  swords. 

Sir  Phy.  I  use  no  sorcery. 

A  whirlwind  bore  me  to  this  cursed  spot ; 
But  whence  it  came  I  neither  know  nor  care. 

Sir  Eth.  There  —  gag  thy  lying  tongue  ;  it  mat 
ters  not, 

Or  here  or  there  we'll  fight  our  quarrel  out. 
Come  !  call  thy  devils  ;  let  them  wait  at  hand 

3 


26  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

And  when  I've  done  with  thee  I'll  do  with  them. 
(They  fight.     The  fairies  watch  the  combat  unob 
served  with  great  interest?) 

Dar.  What  are  they  doing  ? 

^Sel.  It's  some  game  of  skill. 

It's  very  pretty. 

Dar.  Very.  (Knights pause?}  Oh,  they've  stopped. 

Phy.     Come,  come  —  on  guard.   (Fight  resumed?) 

Zay.  Now  they  begin  again. 

Eth.  (Sees  fairies,  who  have  gradually  surrounded 

them?) 

Hold!  we  are  overlooked.  (ETHAIS,  who  has  turned 
for  a  moment  in  saying  this,  is  severely 
wounded  by  PHYLLON.) 

Sel.  You  may  proceed. 

We  like  it  much. 

Dar.  You  do  it  very  well  — 

Begin  again. 

Eth.  Black  curses  on  that  thrust ! 

I  am  disabled.     Ladies,  bind  my  wound  ; 
And  if  it  please  you  still  to  see  us  fight, 
We'll  fight  for  those  bright  eyes  and  cherry  lips 
Till  one  or  both  of  us  shall  bite  the  dust. 

Phy.  Hold  !  call  a  truce  till  we  return  to  earth  — 
Here  are  bright  eyes  enough  for  both  of  us. 

Eth.  I  don't  know  that !     Well,  there  —  till  we 

return.     (Shaking  hands?) 
But  once  again  on  earth,  we  will  take  up 
Our  argument  where  it  was  broken  off, 
And  let  thy  devils  whirl  me  where  they  may, 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  27 

I'll  reach  conclusion  and  corollary. 

Dar.  (looking  at  PHYLLON).     Oh,  fairyhood  ! 
How  wonderfully  like  our  Phyllon  ! 

Set.  (looking  at  ETHAIS).  Yes. 

And  see  —  how  strangely  like  our  Ethais. 
Thou  hast  a  gallant  carriage,  gentle  knight.  (Sighing^) 

Zay.  How  very,  very  like  our  Ethais. 

Eth.  It's  little  wonder  that  I'm  like  myself  ; 
Why,  I  am  he. 

SeL  No,  not  our  Ethais.     (Sighing?) 

Eth.  In  truth,  I  am  the  Ethais  of  all 
Who  are  as  gentle  and  as  fair  as  thou, 

SeL  That's   bravely   said  ;    thou   hast    a    silver 

tongue ; 

Why  !  what  can  gods  be  like  if  these  be  men. 
(During  this  dialogue,  DARINE  shows  by  her  manner 

that  she  takes  great  interest  in  ETHAIS.  ) 
Say,  dost  thou  come  from  earth  or  heaven  ? 

Eth.  (gallantly  putting  his  arm  round  them').     I 
think  I've  come  from  earth  to  heaven. 

SeL  (to  DARINE  with  delight}.     Oh  !  didst  thou 

hear  ? 

He  comes  from  earth  to  heaven  !     No,  Ethais, 
We  are  but  fairies  —  this,  our  native  home. 
Our  fairy-land  rests  on  a  cloud  which  floats 
Hither  and  thither,  as  the  breezes  will ; 
At  times  a  mighty  city's  at  our  feet, 
At  times  a  golden  plain,  and  then  the  sea, 
Dotted  with  ships  and  rocks  and  sunny  isles. 
We  see  the  world  ;  yet  saving  that  it  is 


28  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

A  very  wicked  world,  we  know  it  not  — 
We  hold  no  converse  with  its  denizens  ; 
But  on  the  lands  o'er  which  our  island  hangs, 
We  shed  fair  gifts  of  plenty  and  of  peace  — 
Health  and  contentment — charity  —  goodwill  ; 
Drop  tears  of  love  upon  the  thirsty  earth, 
And  shower  fair  waters  on  the  growing  grain. 
This  is  our  mission. 

Eth.  'Tis  a  goodly  one  ! 

I'd  give  my  sword  —  ay,  and  my  sword-arm  too, 
If  thou  wouldst  anchor  for  a  year  or  so 
O'er  yonder  home  of  mine.     But  tell  me,  now, 
Does  every  cloud  that  hovers  o'er  our  heads 
Bear  in  its  bosom  such  a  wealth  of  love  ? 

Sel.  Alas  !  Sir  Ethais,  we  are  too  few 
To  work  the  good  that  we  could  wish  to  work. 
Thou  hast  seen  black  and  angry  thunder-clouds 
That  spit  their  evil  fire  at  flocks  and  herds, 
And  shake  with  burly  laughter  as  they  watch 
The  trembling  shepherds  count  their  shriveled  dead  ? 
These  are  our  enemies,  sir  knight,  and  thine. 
They  sow  the  seeds  of  pestilence  and  death  — 
May  heaven  preserve  thee  from  their  influence ! 

Eth.  Amen  to  that ! 

Phy.  But  tell  us,  gentle  maid, 

Why  have  you  summoned  us  ? 

Sel.  Because  we  seek 

To  teach  you  truths  that  now  ye  wot  not  of ; 
Because  we  know  that  you  are  very  frail, 
Poor,  blind,  weak,  wayward  mortals  —  willing  reeds, 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  29 

Swayed  right  and  left  by  every  tempting  wind  ; 
And  we  are  pure,  and  very,  very  brave, 
Having  no  taste  for  trivial  solaces 

(taking  Ethais  hand) ; 
Scorning  such  idle  joys  as  we  have  heard 
Appeal  most  strongly  to  such  men  as  you  ; 
And  we  have  cherished  earnest  hope  that  we, 
By  the  example  of  our  sacred  lives, 
May  teach  you  to  abjure  such  empty  joys, 
May  send  you  back  to  earth,  pure,  childlike  men, 
To  teach  your  mothers,  sisters,  and  your  wives, 
And  those  perchance  (sighing)  who  are  to  be  your 

wives ! 

That  there  are  fairy  maidens  in  the  clouds, 
Whose  gentle  mode  of  thought  and  mode  of  life 
They  would  do  well  to  imitate.     We  would 
That  every  maid  on  earth  were  such  as  we  !     (Pla 
cing  her  arms  round  his  neck). 

Eth.  In  truth  we  would  that  every  maiden  were,  — 
(Aside)  Except  our  mothers,  sisters,  and  our  wives ! 

Sel.  If  you  will  be  our  pupils,  you  .must  give 
Some  token  of  submission  to  our  will, 
No  doubt  you  have  some  form  of  fealty  ? 

Eth.  When    man    desires     to     show    profound 

respect  — 

To  indicate  most  forcibly  his  own 
Inferiority,  he  always  puts 
His  arm  round  the  respected  object's  waist, 
And  drawing  her  (or  him)  towards  him,  thus, 
Places  a  very  long  and  tender  kiss 
3*: 


30  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

On  his  (or  her)  face  —  as  the  case  may  be. 

Sel.  That  form  is  not  in  vogue  in  fairy  land  ; 
Still,  as  it  holds  on  earth,  no  doubt  'twill  have 
Far  greater  weight  with  you  poor  sons  of  earth, 
Than  any  formula  we  cauld  impose. 

Phy.  Its  weight  is  overpowering.  (About  tcrkiss.} 

Sel.  But  stay  !  * 

We  would  not  wrest  this  homage  from  you,  sir; 
Or  give  it  willingly,  or  not  at  all. 

Eth.  Most  willingly,  fair  maid,  we  give  it  you. 

Sel.  Good  !     Then  proceed. 

(ETH.  kisses  SEL.  and  PHYL.  kisses  ZAY.) 

Eth.  There  !  does  it  not  convey 

A  pleasant  sense  of  influence  ? 

Sel  It  does. 

Some  earthly  forms  seem  rational  enough. 
Why  Ethais,  what  ails  thee  ?        (ETHAIS  staggers?) 

Eth.  Why,  I'm  faint 

From  loss  of  blood.     My  wound  —  here,  take  this 

scarf, 

And  bind  it  round  my  arm  —  so  —  have  a  care  ! 
There,  that  will  do  till  I  return  to  earth ; 
Then,  Lutin,  who's  a  fairly  skillful  leech, 
Shall  doctor  it. 

Sel.  (amazed}.     Didst  thou  say  Lutin  ? 

Eth.  Yes, 

He  is  my  squire  —  a  poor,  half-witted  churl, 

Enter  LUTIN  unobserved. 
Who  shudders  at  the  rustling  of  a  leaf ; 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  31 

A  strange,  odd,  faithful,  loving,  timid  knave  ; 
More  dog  than  man,  and,  like  a  well-thrashed  hound, 
He  loves  his  master's  voice,  and  dreads  it,  too. 
Why,  here  he- is  !  (In  intense  astonishment} 

Lut.  Who  is  this  insolent, 

A  mortal  here  in  fairy  land  ? 

Loc.  Yes,  two  ! 

Lut.  Oh,  this  is  outrage  ! 

Eth.  (crossing  to  him}.     Why,  thou  scurvy  knave, 
How  cam'st  thou  here?  Thou  didst  not  come  with 

us! 
What  is  the  meaning  of  this  masquerade  ? 

{Alluding  to  LUTIN'S  dress. 
Be  off  at  once ;  if  I  could  use  my  arm, 
I'd  whip  thee  for  this  freak,  but  as  it  is, 
I'll  hand  thee  over  to  that  wife  of  thine ; 
Her  hand  is  heavier  than  mine.     (To  Sel.)     This 

churl 

(So  rumor  saith)  is  mated  to  a  shrew  ; 
A  handsome,  ranting,  jealous,  clacking  shrew  ; 
And  he,  by  means  of  this  torn-fool  disguise, 
Has  'scaped  his  home  to  play  the  truant  here ; 

Lut.  Who  are  these  men  ? 

Sel.  The  mortal  counterparts 

Of  Ethais  and  Phyllon.     Look  at  them  !     (Crosses 

to  LUTIN.) 
Dost  thou  not  love  them  ? 

Lut.  (indignantly).  No ! 

Sel.  How  very  strange  ! 

Why  we  all  loved  them  from  the  very  first. 


32  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

Ltit.  Is  this  indeed  the  truth  ? 

Dar.  It  is  indeed. 

Obedient  to  our  queen's  command,  we  have 
Subdued  our  natural  antipathies. 

Zay.  They  are  our  guests,  all  odious  though  they 
be,  (Takes  PHYLLON'S  hand.) 

And  we  must  bid  them  welcome  to  our  home, 
As  if  e'en  now  they  were  what  they  will  be 
When  they  have  seen  what  we  shall  be  to  them. 

(Kissing  his  hand?) 

Lut.  Be  warned  in  time,  and  send  these  mortals 

hence ; 

Why,  don't  you  see  that  in  each  word  they  speak, 
They  breathe  of  love  ? 

Sel.  (enthusiastically).     They  do  ! 

Lut.  Why  Love's  the  germ 

Of  every  sin  that  stalks  upon  the  earth : 
The  brawler  fights  for  love  —  the  drunkard  drinks 
To  toast  the  girl  who  loves  him,  or  to  drown 
Remembrance  of  the  girl  who  loves  him  not ! 
The  miser  hoards  his  gold  to  purchase  love. 
The  liar  lies  to  gain,  or  wealth,  or  love  ; 
And  if  for  wealth,  it  is  to  purchase  love. 
The  very  footpad  nerves  his  coward  arm 
To  stealthy  deeds  of  shame  by  pondering  on 
The  tipsy  kisses  of  some  tavern  wench ! 
Be  not  deceived  —  this  love  is  but  the  seed  ; 
The  branching  tree  that  springs  from  it  is  Hate  ! 

Dar.  (to  EXIT.)     Nay,  heed  him  not.     There  is  a 
legend  here  — 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  33 

An  idle  tale,  that  man  is  infamous, 
And  he  believes  it.     So,  indeed,  did  we, 
Till  we  beheld  you,  gallant  gentlemen  ! 

Lut.  Why,  they  are  raving  !     Let  me  go  at  once 
And  join  my  brothers  at  our  monarch's  court; 
While  they  are  here  this  is  no  place  for  me. 

Zay.  (eagerly  to  SEL.)    Let  him  depart ;  then  we 

can  summon  here 

His  mortal  counterpart.  (Fairies  delighted ;  SELENE 
expresses  indignant  surprise,  ZAYDA  changes 
her  manner),  a  poor  frail  man 
No  doubt,  who  stands  in  very  sorest  need 
Of  such  good  counsel  as  we  can  afford. 

Sel.  Thou  speakest  wisely.    Lutin,  get  thee  gone. 

Eth.  Be  off  at  once. 

Phy.  Begone,  thou  scurvy  knave  ! 

Thy  wife  shall  hear  of  this  —  she  II  punish  thee. 

Lut.  Oh,  moral  plague  !  oh,  walking  pestilence ! 
Oh,  incarnation  of  uncleanliness  ! 
You  call  me  knave  !     Why,  harkye  men  of  sin. 
You've  kings  and  queens  upon  that  world  of  yours, 
To  whom  you  crawl  in  apt  humility ; 
Well,  sir,  there's  not  an  emperor  on  earth 
Who  would  not  kiss  the  dust  I  tread  upon, 
And  I'm  the  meanest  here.     Good  day  to  you. 

[Exit  LUTIN. 

Eth.   (following  him   angrily,    is   restrained    by 
SELENE).     The  fellow's   crazed  —  heed  not 
his  rhapsodies, 
Thou  dost  not  credit  him  ? 


34  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

Set.  And  if  I  do, 

What  matters  it  ?     Be  all  he  says  thou  art, 
And  I  will  worship  thee  for  being  so  ; 
Thou  art  my  faith  —  whate'er  my  Ethais  does 
Is  ever  hallowed  by  his  doing  it ; 
Thy  moral  law  is  mine  —  for  thou  art  mine : 
Rob,  and  I'll  scoff  at  honor  ;  kill  — I'll  kill; 
Be  perjured,  and  I'll  swear  by  perjury; 
Ay,  be  thou  false  to  me,  and  I'll  proclaim 
That  man  forsworn  who  loves  but  one  alone  ! 
My  soul  is  thine  —  whate'er  my  faith  may  be, 
I'll  be  its  herald ;  if  thou  hast  no  faith, 
I'll  be  the  high  priest  of  thine  unbelief ! 
Thy  wisdom's  mine  ;  thy  folly's  thine  — 

Eth.  Hush  !  hush  ! 

Why  this  is  madness  ! 

Sel.  Yes,  for  this  is  Love  ! 

SELENE  kneels  at  ETHAIS'  feet. 


-ACT   II. 

SCENE,  same  as  Act  I. 

[DARINE,  ZAYDA,    LEILA,   LOCRINE,  other  Fairies, 
and  NEODIE   discovered  anxiously  watching 
the  entrance  to  SELENE'S  bower.] 

Dar.  Still,  still  Selene  watches  Ethais  ! 
For  six  long  hours  has  she  detained  the  knight 
Within  the  dark  recesses  of  her  bower, 


THE  WICKED   WORLD.  35 

Under  pretense  that  his  unhappy  wound 
Demands  her  unremitting  watchfulness ! 
(Indignantly -.)  This,  fairies,  is  our  queen  !  —  the 

sinless  soul 

To  whose  immaculate  pre-eminence 
We  pure  and  perfect  maidens  of  the  air 
Accord  our  voluntary  reverence  ! 

Zay.  Her  conduct  is  an  outrage  on  her  sex  ! 
Was  it  for  this  that  we  proposed  to  her 
That  we  should  bring  these  mortals  to  our  land  ? 
Is  this  the  way  to  teach  this  erring  man 
The  moral  beauties  of  a  spotless  life  ? 
To  teach  him  truths  that  now  he  wots  not  of  ? 
Surely  this  knight  might  well  have  learnt  on  earth 
Such  moral  truths  as  she  is  teaching  him. 

Enter  SELENE  from  bower,  DARINE  retires  up. 

Lei.  At  last  she  comes  !     (to  SELENE).     We  are 

well  pleased  to  find 
That,  after  such  a  lengthy  vigil,  thou 
Canst  tear  thyself  away  from  Ethais  ! 

Set.  Yes,  dearest  sister,  he  is  calmer  now. 
( To  ZAY.)   Oh  !  this  has  been  a  fearful  night  for  him  ; 
Not  for  one  moment  have  I  left  his  side ! 

Zay.  Poor  Ethais  !     Believe  us,  sister  dear, 
He  has  our  heartfelt  pity. 

Sel.  All  night  long 

He  tossed  and  raved  in  wild  delirium ; 
Shouting  for  arms,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
Fighting  his  fight  with  Phyllon  o'er  again, 


36  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

At  length,  as  morning  broke,  he  fell  asleep, 

And  slept  in  peace  till  half  an  hour  ago. 

I  watched  him  through  the  long  and  troubled  night, 

Fanning  the  fever  from  his  throbbing  brow, 

Till  he  awoke.     At  first  he  gazed  on  me 

In  silent  wonderment ;  then,  suddenly 

Seizing  my  hand,  he  pressed  it  to  his  lips, 

And  swore  that  I  had  saved  him  from  the  grave  — 

Mark  that  —  the  grave  !     I  —  I  had  saved  his  life  ! 

He  told  me  that  he  loved  me  —  loved  me  well ; 

That  I  was  fairer  than  the  maids  of  earth  — 

That  I  had  holy  angel-eyes,  that  rained 

A  gentle  pity  on  his  stubborn  heart  — 

(He  called  it  stubborn,  for  he  knew  it  not)  ; 

That  I  was  fairer,  in  his  worldly  eyes, 

Than  all  the  maids  on  earth  or  in  the  clouds ! 

(DARINE,  who  has  listened  ^vith  intense  anxiety 
to  this  speech,  goes  off  silently,  but  in  an 
agony  of  grief ^ 

Zay.  (spitefully).     Could   any   words    more    elo 
quently  show 
The  recklessness  of  his  delirium  ? 

Sel.  (surprised}.     Nay,  he  was  conscious  then. 

Neo.  (very  kindly).  Of  course  he  was ! 

No  doubt,  Selene,  thou  hast  gained  his  love. 
Be  happy  in  it,  dearest  sister ;  but 
In  thy  proud  triumph,  love,  pray  recollect 
He  had  not  seen  us  ! 

Zay.  Thou  hast  wisely  done 

To  keep  him  from  our  sight.     Cage  thou  thy  bird, 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  37 

Or  he  may  fly  to  fairer  homes  than  thine. 

Sel.  (amazed}.     What  mean  you,  sisters  ?     Nay, 

turn  not  away  — 
What  have  I  done  ? 

Loc.  (very  spitefully).     Indeed  we  do  not  know ; 
But,  lest  we  should  affect  his  love  for  thee, 
We  will  at  once  withdraw. 

{Exit  LOCRINE,  bowing  ironically. 

Lei.  (with  freezing  politeness].    Good-day  to  you  ! 

Neo.  Good-day! 

Zay.  Good-day.     Remember — cage  thy  bird  ! 

[Exit. 

Sel.  How  strangely  are  my  sisters  changed  .to  me  ! 
Have  I  done  wrong  ?     No,  no,  I'm  sure  of  that. 
The  knight  was  sorely  stricken — he  had*  died 
But  for  my  willing  care.     Oh  !  earthly  love, 
Thou  mighty  minister  of  good  or  ill, 
Is  it  for  good  or  ill  that  thou  art  here  ? 
Art  thou  an  element  of  happiness, 
Or  an  unwieldy  talisman  that  I,  • 

In  heedlessness,  have  turned  against  myself  ? 
"  He  had  not  seen  them!'  — so  my  sister  spake  ; 
Yes,  truly,  there  are  fairer  forms  than  mine. 
He  shall  not  see  them  !     Oh  !  I  am  unjust. 
Hath  he  not  told  me  that  I  have  his  love  ? 
There  is  no  treachery  in  those  brave  eyes ; 
There  is  no  falsehood  in  that  gallant  heart  j 
But  still  —  he  had  not  seen  them.     Oh,  for  shame  ! 
Can  love  and  doubt  reign  ever  side  by  side  ? 
No,  Ethais,  love  is  the  death  of  doubt. 

4 


38  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

I  love  thee,  Ethais,  and  doubt  thee  not ! 
Still  it  were  better  that  he  saw  but  me. 

(ETHAIS  has  entered  unperceived  from  bower 
and  overheard  the  last  three  lines.  He 
is  very  pale  and  weak,  and  his  arm  is  in 
a  sling.) 

Eth.  Selene,  I  am  weak  —  give  me  thine  hand. 

Sel.  My  love,  thou  shouldst  not  yet  have  left  thy 

couch ! 
Come  —  thou  hast  need  of  rest. 

Eth.  No,  let  me  stay, 

The  air  revives  me  —  I  am  strong  again. 
And  so,  thou  trustest  me  ? 

Sel.  In  truth  I  do  !  (Sits  by  his  side.} 

Although  I  can  not  tell  thee  whence  proceeds 
This  strange,  irrational  belief  in  thee  — 
Thee,  whom  I  hardly  know. 

Eth.  Is  that  so  strange  ? 

I  see  no  marvel ! 

Sel.  Nay,  my  love,  reflect, 

I  am  a  woman,  and  thou  art  a  man  ; 
Well,  thou  art  comely  —  so,  in  truth,  am  I  ; 
We  meet  and  love  each  other — that's  to  say, 
I  am  prepared  to  give  up  all  I  have, 
My  home,  my  very  fairyhood  for  thee  ; 
Thou  to  surrender  riches,  honor,  life, 
To  please  the  fleeting  fancies  of  my  will. 
And  why  ? 

Because  I  see  in  thee,  or  thou  in  me, 
Astounding  virtue,  brilliant  intellect, 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  39 

Great  self-denial,  venerable  years, 
Rare  scholarship,  or  godly  talent  ?     No  ! 
Because,  forsooth,  we're  comely  specimens  — 
Not  of  our  own,  but  Nature's  industry  ! 

Eth.  The  face  is  the  true  index  of  the  mind, 
A  ready  formula,  whereby  to  read 
The  lesson  of  a  lifetime  in  a  glance. 

Set.  (in  wonder).  Then,  Ethais,  is  perfect  come 
liness 
Always  identified  with  moral  worth  ? 

Eth.  The  comeliest  man  is  the  most  virtuous  — 
That's  an  unfailing  rule. 

Set.  Then,  Ethais, 

There  is  no  holier  man  on  earth  than  thou ! 
My  sisters,  Ethais,  are  sadly  changed 
By  the  strange  power  that  emanates  from  thee. 
They  love  thee  as  I  love  thee ! 

Eth.  (aside}.  Do  they  so ! 

I'faith  they  shall  not  love  their  love  in  vain  ! 

Sel.  I  tell  thee  this  that  thou  mayst  shun  them, 

lest 

By  crafty  scheme  and  subtly  planned  device, 
They  steal  thee  from  thy  mistress  unawares. 

Eth.  (laughing).     No  fear  of   that !     Laugh  all 

their  schemes  to  scorn, 

Treat  them  with  the  contempt  such  jades  deserve. 
I  do  not  seek  them. 

Sel.  Does  the  miser  treat 

The  thief  who  seeks  his  treasure  with  contempt, 
Because  his  treasure  does  not  seek  the  thief  ? 


40  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

No,  Ethais,  I'll  hide  my  gold  away ! 

Take  thou  this  ring  —  it  is  a  pledge  of  love  (giving 

him  a  ring). 
Wear  it  until  thy  love  fades  from  thy  soul. 

Etk.  'Twill  never  fade  while  thou  art  true  to  me. 

Sel.  (amazed).    Are  women  ever  false  to  such  as 
thou  ? 

Etk.  Are  women  ever  true  ?     Well,  not  to  me. 
(Asi'de.)  Nor  I  to  them  ;  and  so  we  square  accounts  ! 

Sel.  Then  thou  hast  been  deceived  ? 

Etk.  A  dozen  times. 

Sel.  How  terrible ! 

Etk.  Yes,  terrible  indeed  ! 

Ah,  my  Selene,  picture  to  thyself 
A  man  —  linked  for  his  life  to  one  he  loves. 
She  is  his  world  —  she  is  the  breath  he  breathes  ; 
In  his  fond  eyes  the  type  of  purity. 
Well,  she  is  false  —  all  women  are  —  and  then 
Come  tidings  of  his  shame,  the  damning  words, 
"  I  love  another,  I  have  cheated  thee." 
At  first  it  can  not  be,  it  is  a  dream  ; 
And  when  by  slow  procession,  step  by  step, 
He  sees  in  it  the  waking  from  a  dream, 
His  heavy  heart  stands  still  —  he  dies  a  death, 
A  momentary  death  —  to  wake  again 
Into  a  furious  life  of  hot  revenge  ; 
His  hand  against  all  men  ;  his  maddened  tongue 
Calling  down  curses  on  his  cheated  self ; 
On  him  who  stole  her  love,  on  all  but  her 
Who  has  called  down  this  crowning  curse  on  him ! 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  41 

To  find  her  love  a  lie,  her  kiss  a  jest, 
Her  cherished  bywords  a  cold  mockery  — 
Oh,  there  are  words 
For  other  agonies,  but  none  for  this ! 

Sel.  And  thou  hast  suffered  this  ? 

Eth.  (bitterly}.  I  have  indeed  ! 

Sel.  And  how  long  does  this  bitter  anguish  last  ? 

Eth.  Well,  in  a  very  serious  case,  all  night ! 
Next  day  a  fairer  face,  a  nobler  form, 
A  purer  heart,  a  gentler  maidenhood, 
Will  set  him  dreaming  as  he  dreamt  before 
Until  the  time  for  waking  comes  again ; 
And  so  the  round  of  love  runs  through  our  lives ! 

Sel.  But  these  are  earthly  maidens,  Ethais  — 
My  love  is  purer  than  a  mortal's  love. 

Eth.  Thine  is  no  mortal  love  if  it  be  pure. 

Sel.  (horrified).     Then,  mortal  Ethais,  what  love 
is  thine  ? 

Eth.  (taken  aback}.    I  spake  of  women  —  men  are 
otherwise. 

Sel.  Man's  love  is  pure,  invariably  ?  . 

Eth.  Pure  ? 

Pure  as  thine  own  ! 

Sel.  Poor,  trusting,  cheated  souls  ! 

\Exeunt  together  into  bower. 

Enter  DARINE,  who  has  overheard  the  last  few  lines. 

Dar.  She  leads  him  willingly  into  her  bower ! 
Oh  !  I  could  curse  the  eyes  that  meet  his  eyes, 
The  hand  that  touches  his  hand,  and  the  lips 


42  THE    WICKED   WORLD. 

That  press  his  lips  !     And  why  ?     I  can  not  tell ! 
Some  unknown  fury  rages  in  my  soul, 
A  mean  and  miserable  hate  of  all, 

[Enter  PHYLLON  unobserved. 
Who  interpose  between  my  love  and  me ! 
What  devil  doth  possess  me  ? 

Phy.  Jealousy ! 

Dar.  Perhaps  —  what  matters  how  the  fiend  is 
called  ? 

Pky.  But  wherefore  art  thou  jealous  ?     Tell  me, 

now, 
Have  /done  aught  to  cause  this  jealousy? 

Dar.  Thou  !     Dost  thou  love  me  ? 

Phy.  Love  thee  ?    Tenderly  ! 

I  love  all  pretty  girls,  on  principle. 

Dar.  But  is  thy  love  an  all-possessing  love  ? 
Mad,  reckless,  unrestrained,  infuriate, 
Holding  thy  heart  within  its  iron  grasp, 
And  pressing  passion  from  its  very  core  ? 

Phy.   (surprised}.     Oh,  yes  ! 

Dar.  Alas  !  poor  stricken,  love-sick  knight ! 

Phyllon,  my  love  is  such  a  love  as  thine, 
But  it  is  not  for  thee  !     Oh,  nerve  thyself, 
I  have  ill  tidings  for  thee,  gentle  knight ! 
I  love  thee  not ! 

Phy.  Indeed  ? 

Dar.  Is  it  not  strange  ? 

Phy.  Most  unaccountable. 

Dar.  (disappointed).  But  tell  me,  now. 

Art  thou  not  sorely  vexed  ? 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  43 

Phy.  (quietly}.  Unspeakably. 

Dar.  But  thou'lt  forgive  me  ?     Tell  me  Phy  lion, 

now, 
That  I  am  pardoned ! 

Phy.  That,  indeed,  thou  art. 

Dar.  (hurt).  Phy  lion,    hadst    thou   despised    my 

proffered  love, 
I'd  not  have  pardoned  thee  ! 

Phy.  No,  women  don't. 

Dar.  (impatiently].  •  But  dost  thou  understand  ? 

I  love  thee  not. 

I,  whom  thou  lovest,  Phyllon,  love  thee  not  — 
Nay,  more,  I  love  another  —  Ethais  ! 
Thou  hast  a  rival,  and  a  favored  one. 
Dost  thou  not  hear  me  ? 

Phy.  (surprised).  Yes  ;  I'm  deeply  pained. 

Dar.   (delighted).  Thou  art  ? 

Phy.  Of  course.  What  wouldst  thou  have  me  do  ? 

Dar.  Do  ?      Hurl   thyself    headlong    to    yonder 

earth, 
And  end  at  once  a  life -of  agony ! 

Phy.  Why  should  I  ! 

Dar.  Why  ?    Because  I  love  thee  not ! 

Why  if  /  loved  and  found  my  love  despised, 
The  universe  should  ring  with  my  laments  ; 
And  were  I  mortal,  Phyllon,  as  thou  art, 
I  would  destroy  myself  ! 

Phy.  Ha!  ha!     If  all 

Heartbroken  lovers  took  that  course,  the  world 
Would  be  depopulated  in  a  week ! 


44  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

And  so  thou  lovest  Ethais  ? 

Dar.   (enthusiastically}.        I  do  ! 

Phy.  But  still  (I  may  be  wrong)  it  seems  to  me 
He's  taken  with  Selene  — 

Dar.  (fzirioitsly).  Name  her  not ! 

He  feigns  a  love  he  does  not  feel,  because 
She  is  our  queen.     He  dares  not  anger  her  ! 

Phy,  But  art  thou  sure  of  this  ? 

Dar.  (bitterly).  Oh!  am  I  sure! 

Look  in  these  eyes  —  they  do  not  burn  for  thee ; 
Behold  this  form  —  that  thou  shalt  never  clasp  — 
Gaze  on  these  lips  —  thou  shalt  not  press  them,  sir ! 
And  tell  me,  now,  that  Ethais  loves  me  not ! 
Oh  !  had  I  but  the  power  to  heal  his  wound, 
And  free  him  from  her  hated  company  ! 

Phy.  Were  Lutin  here,  he  would  assist  thy  plan. 

Dar.  Lutin  ? 

Phy.  His  henchman,  and  a  cunning  leech  ; 

He  has  a  charm  —  a  potent  talisman  — 
A  panacea  that  will  heal  all  wounds ; 
Fetch  him,  and  Ethais  is  healed  again. 

Dar.  (aside).  The  gods  have  heard  me  !    (Aloud, 

suddenly).  Oh  ;  insensate  knight, 
Thou  counselest  me  how  to  gain  his  love; 
And  yet  thou  lovest  me  ? 

Phy.  Ob,  pardon  me, 

That  was  ten  minutes  since  —  an  age  ago  !     [Exit. 

Dar.   Here  comes  the  miserable,  mincing  jade, 
With  a  fair  speech  upon  her  lying  lips, 
To  meet  the  sister  whom  her  base-born  arts 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  45 

Have  robbed  of  more  than  life !     Oh,  hypocrite"! 

Enter  SELENE  from  bower, 

Sel.  Darine ! 

Dar.  (changing  her  manner}.     My   sister  —  my 

beloved  one, 

Why,  thou  art  sad ;  thine  eyes  are  dim  with  tears  ! 
Say,  what  hath  brought  thee  grief  ? 

Sel.  (with  great  joy).  Darine,  my  own. 

Thou  dost  not  shun  me,  then  ? 

Dar.   (aside].  Oh,  hypocrite  ! 

(Alotid.)  Shun  thee,  my  own  Selene  ?    No  —  not  I ! 

Sel.  Bless  thee  for  that !     I  feared  to  meet  thy 

face, 

For  all  my  loved  companions  turned  from  me 
With  scornful  jest  and  bitter  mockery. 
Thou  —  thou  —  Darine,  alone  art  true  to  me  ! 

Dar.  True  to  Selene  while  Selene  breathes  ! 
Come  —  tell  me  all  thy  woes. 

Sel.  My  Ethais  — 

He  whom  I  love  so  fondly  —  he  is  ill, 
And  I  am  powerless  to  heal  his  wound. 
Darine,  my  love  may  die  ! 

Dar.  What  can  be  done  ? 

Oh,  I  would  give  my  fairyhood  to  save 
The  man  thou  lovest  so  —  my  dearly  loved  ! 
But  stay,  the  counterpart  of  Lutin  is 
At  once  his  henchman  and  his  cunning  leech ; 
Lutin  has  left  our  sphere,  (plucking-  rose  from  tree) 
cast  this  to  earth,  (giving  if) 


46  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

\. 
And  summon  mortal  Lutin  to  his  aid. 

He  hath  a  charm  to  heal  thy  lover's  wound. 

Set.  Kind  Heaven  reward  thee  for  thy  ready  wit, 
My  sister,  thou  hast  saved  both  him  and  me  ! 
My  darling  sister !  (Embracing  her} 

Dar.  (aside}.  Oh,  thou  hypocrite  ! 

Sel.  Fair  rose,  I  name  thee  Lutin,  go  to  earth, 
And  hither  send  the  mortal  counterpart 
Of  him  whose  name  thou  hast,  and  may  the  gods 
Prosper  thy  mission  !     Kiss  me,  dear  Darine,  (kiss 
ing  her) 
For  thou  hast  saved  my  Ethais  for  me !  [Exit  SELENE. 

Dar.  No,  not  for  thee,  good  sister,  for  myself  ! 

[Exit  DARINE. 

(Hurried  music.  Enter  MORTAL  LUTIN  over 
edge  of  precipice,  staggering  on  the  stage  as 
if  violently  impelled  from  below?) 

Lut.  What  ho  !  help  !  help  !  Where  am  I  ?    Not 

on  earth, 

For  I  remember  that  a  friendly  cloud 
Enveloped  me,  and  whirled  me  through  the  air, 
Just  as  my  fair,  but  able-bodied,  wife, 
Began  to  lay  my  staff  about  my  ears  ! 

[Enter  NEODIE,  LEILA,  LOCRINE,  and  others. 
Can  this  be  death,  and  has  she  killed  me?     (Sees 

them.}     Well, 

If  I  be  dead,  and  if  this  be  the  place 
In  which  I'm  doomed  to  expiate  my  sins, 
Taking  my  sins  all  round,  I'm  bound  to  say 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  47 

It  might  have  been  considerably  worse  ! 

Loc.  (approaching  him  with  great  delight).    Why, 
this  is  Lutin's  mortal  counterpart ! 

Neo.  How  quaint !     How  gloriously  rugged  ? 

Lei.  Yes ! 

Such  character  and  such  expression  ! 

All  (admiring  him).  Yes  ! 

Lut.  By  some  mistake  my  soul  has  missed  its  way, 
And  slipped  into  Mahomet's  Paradise! 

Neo.  No,  this  is  fairyland.     See,  there's  the  earth 
From  which  we  summoned  thee.     These  are  the 

clouds. 
Thou  art  not  angry  with  us  ? 

Lut.  Angry  ?     No  ! 

I'm  very  well  up  here  ! 

Loc.  Then  thou  shalt  stay  ! 

Neo.  Oh,  tell  me,  are  there  many  men  on  earth 
As  fair  and  pleasant  to  the  eye  as  thou  ? 

Lut.  Not  many,  though  I  have  met  one  or  two 
Who  run  me  pretty  close. 

Neo.  Tell  us  their  names. 

Lut.  Well,  let   me   see,    Sir  Phyllon   has    been 

thought 

A  personable  man  ;  then  Ethais 
Hes  fairly  well. 

Neo.  But  these  are  handsome  men  — 

We  love  thee  for  thy  rugged  homely  face  ; 
Oh,  we  are  sated  with  mere  comeliness, 
We  have  so  much  of  that  up  here  !     (rises)     I  love 
A  homely  face ! 


48  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

Lut.  I  quite  agree  with  you. 

What  do  a  dozen  handsome  men  imply  ? 
A  dozen  faces  cast  in  the  same  mold, 
A  dozen  mouths  all  lip  for  lip  the  same. 
A  dozen  noses  all  of  equal  length  ? 
But  take  twelve  plain  men,  and  the  element 
Of  picturesque  variety  steps  in, 
You  get  at  once  unlooked-for  hill  and  dale  — 
Odd  curves  and  unexpected  points  of  light, 
Pleasant  surprises  —  quaintly  broken  lines  ; 
All  very  pleasant,  whether  seen  upon 
The  face  of  nature  or  the  face  of  man.  [Enter  ZAYDA. 

Loc.  But  stay  —  thou  shouldst  be  faint,  for  lack 
of  food! 

Neo.  Nay,  let  me  minister  unto  his  wants  ! 

Zay.  Then  go,  beloved  sisters,  gather  fruits. 
And  bring  them  here  to  him.     Such  frugal  fare 
Will  have  a  daintier  flavor  than  its  own 
When  served  by  such  fair  hands  !     (Kissing  them) 
[Exeunt  LOCRINE,  NEODIE,  and  others. 

Zay.  (suddenly).  We  are  alone  ! 

One  word  of  caution  —  shun  my  sisters  all ! 

Lut.  Are  all  those  lovely  girls  your  sisters  ? 

Zay.  Yes  .; 

Rejoice  that  they  are  not  thine  own. 

Lut.  I  do. 

I  very  much  prefer  them  as  they  are ! 
You're  a  fine  family. 

Zay.  Fair  to  the  eye ; 

But  take  good  heed  —  they  are  not  what  they  seem  ! 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  49 

Locrine,  the  fair,  the  beautiful  Locrine, 
Is  the  embodiment  of  avarice ! 
She  seeks  your  gold. 

Lut.  I'm  much  obliged  to  her  ; 

I'll  give  her  half  she  finds  and  thank  her  too ! 

Zay.  Darine  is  vain  beyond  comparison  ; 
Neodie  is  much  older  than  she  looks  ; 
Camilla  hath  defective  intellect ; 
Ena's  a  bitter  shrew  ;  Colombe's  a  thief ; 
And,  last  and  worst  of  all  —  I  blush  to  own, 
Our  queen  Selene  hath  a  tongue  that  stabs  — 
A  traitor-tongue,  that  serves  no  better  end 
Than  wag  a  woman's  character  away  ! 

Lut.  I've  stumbled  into  pretty  company  ! 
It  seems  you  fairies  have  your  faults  ! 

Zay.  Alas ! 

All  but  myself.     My  soul  is  in  my  face ; 
I  —  only  I  —  am  what  I  seem  to  be ; 
I  —  only  I  —  am  worthy  to  be  loved  ; 
(confidentially).  If  thou  wilt  love  me  I  will  dower 

thee 

With  wealth  untold,  long  years  and  happy  life, 
Thou  gallant  churl  —  thou  highly  polished  boor  — 
Thou  pleasant  knave  —  thou  strange  epitome 
Of  all  that's  rugged,  quaint  and  picturesque  ! 

Lut.  You  don't  take  long  in  coming  to  the  point. 

Zay.  Forgive  my  clumsy  and  ill  chosen  words ; 
We  gentle,  simple  fairies  never  loved 
Until  to-day. 

Lut.  And  when  you  do  begin, 

5 


50  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

You  fairies  make  up  for  the  time  you've  lost ! 
(The  Fairies  enter  witJi  fruit.     He  sits  up.      They 
group  about  him.) 

Neo.  Hast  thou  a  wife  ? 

Lut.  Well,  yes  —  that  is  —  down  there  — 

Up  here  I  am  a  bachelor  —  as  yet. 

Zay.  (offended}.     As  yet !     Be  good  enough  to 

recollect 

That  we  are  good,  and  pure,  and  maidenly  — 
So  prithee  guard  that  errant  tongue  of  thine. 

Loc.  And  does  she  love  thee  ? 

Lut.  Humph  —  we  do  fall  out  — 

We  did  to-day. 

Neo.  And  how  came  that  about  ?   *  (All 

anxious  to  know} 

Lut.  Why  thus  —  to   tell   the   truth  —  between 

ourselves  — 
There  was  a  lady  in  the  case. 

Zay.  (apart,  miich  shocked).     Hush  —  hush  — 
Confine  thyself  to  matters  that  relate 
To  thine  own  sex.     Thy  master,  Ethais  — 
He  fought  with  Phyllon  —  what  was  that  about  ? 

(Crossing  to  LUTIN.) 

Lut.  Oh,  it's  the  old,  old  story  ! 

Loc.  Tell  it. 

Lut.  Well, 

There  was  a  lady  in  the  case  ! 

Zay.  Then,  stop  — 

Go  on  to  something  else  —  Where  wast  thou  born  ? 

Lut.  Why,  in  Bulgaria  —  some  years  ago  — 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  51 

(whispering)  There  was  a  lady  in  that  case ! 

Zay.  (severely).  It  seems 

There  is  a  lady,  sir,  in  every  case. 

Lut.  In  all  these  cases  they  do  interfere  ! 

Enter  DARINE  unobserved. 

Loc.  And,  Lutin,  is  thy  wife  as  fair  as  thou  ? 

Lut.  I  thought  her  pretty  till  I  looked  on  thee. 

Zay.  Her  hair  ? 

Lut.  Is  bright  —  but  not  as  bright  as  thine. 

Loc.  Her  figure  ? 

Lut.  Neat  and  graceful  of  its  kind, 

But  lacks  thy  pleasant  plumpness.     Then,  besides, 
She  has  a  long  loud  tongue,  and  uses  it  — 
A  stout  and  heavy  hand  —  and  uses  that ; 
And  large  expressive  eyes  —  and  uses  them  / 

Zay.  And  does  she  know  that  thou  art  here  with 
us? 

Lut.  No  —  that's  the  joke  !    No  —  that's  the  best 

of  it ! 

The  gods  forbid  she  ever  should  know  that ! 
She  is  so  plaguey  jealous  ! 

Loc.  Is  she  so  ? 

How  is  the  lady  called  ? 

Lut.  Her  name's  Darine. 

Dar.  (coming forward}.    So  I  have  found  thee, 
Lutin. 

Lut.  (aghast).  Can  it  be  ? 

My  wife ! 

Zay.         Thy  wife  ?     This  is  Darine  ! 


52  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

Lut.  I  know ! 

(They  detain  him}.     Be  quiet —  don't  —  oblige  me 

—  let  me  go  ! 

Do  not  suppose,  my  love,  that  these  bold  girls 
Are  friends  of  mine. 

Dar.  Come,  I  would  speak  with  thee  — 

Lut.  Allow  me  to  explain. 

Dar.  Attend  to  me. 

Say,  dost  thou  love  thy  master,  Ethais  ? 

Lut.  My  master  ?     Yes,  most  surely  ! 

Dar.  (earnestly).  So  do  I  ! 

Madly,   unreasonably,    recklessly.      (LuxiN    much 

taken  aback?) 

Love  him  with  all  the  passion  of  a  heart 
That  love  has  never  kindled  till  to-day  ! 
Thou,  only  thou,  canst  help  me,  noble  sir. 
The  gods,  the  gods  have  sent  thee  to  my  aid ! 

Lut.  Have  they  ?     In  doing  so  the  gods  have  not 
Displayed  their  usual  talent  for  intrigue. 
O,  thou  abandoned  woman  ! 

Dar.  Hear  me,  sir  ! 

My  Ethais  is  wounded  in  the  arm, 
Thou  hast  a  remedy  of  wondrous  power, 
A  charmed  remedy.     Give  it  to  me, 
That  I  may  work  his  cure. 

Lut.  Upon  my  soul,    - 

Cure  him  for  thee  !     This  is  a  cool  request ! 

Dar.  But  why  not  heal  thy  master's  wound  ? 

Lut.  Because, 

Under  the  circumstances,  I  prefer 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  53 

My  master  wounded  to  my  master  well, 
For  when  he's  well,  he's  very  well  indeed  ! 
(Aside)  But  stay  —  here   is   an   essence   that  will 

drown 
His  soul  in  sleep  till  I  awaken  him  (taking  bottle 

from  pocket}. 

Shall  I  ?     I  will !     He'll  be  much  safer  so  ! 
(A lotto)  There,  take  the  charm,  and  heal  thy  Ethais  ! 
Dar.  A  thousand  thanks !      Now  he  indeed  is 

mine  ! 
Lut.  Oh !    this    is    inconceivable !      Come  here 

(Fairies  advance), 

D'  ye  see  these  maidens,  madam  ?     Hitherto 
Thou  hast  been  jealous,  but  without  good  cause  ; 
But  now  I'll  give  thee  cause  for  jealousy  ; 
I'll  pass  my  time  with  them  —  d'ye   hear  ?    with 

them  — 

They're  very  pleasant,  unaffected  girls  ; 
I  like  them  very  much,  and  they  like  me  — 
I'll  play  the  very  devil  with  their  hearts, 
And  let  them  play  the  very  deuce  with  mine ! 

Dar.  Do  so  ;  I'll  not  detain  thee  from  thy  loves  — 
See  how  impatiently  they  wait  for  thee ; 
Go  —  while  the  happy  hours  away  with  them. 
Lut.  Is  this  thy  jealousy,  abandoned  girl  ? 
Dar.  (surprised}.     Jealous  of  thee  ?     Good  sir, 

I  love  thee  not ! 
Lut.  You  don't ! 

Dar.  No,  no  —  I  love  Sir  Ethais  ; 

And  when  I've  healed  his  wound,  sheer  gratitude 
5* 


54  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

Will  wake  his  soul  to  love  ! 

Lut.  If  he  drinks  that 

Sheer  gratitude  won't  wake  him.    After  all  (looking 
at  Fairies  who  are  endeavoring  to  persuade 
him  to  accompany  them.) 
Six  pretty  Zaydas  to  one  Ethais  — 
He  fast  asleep,  and  they  all  wide  awake, 
Egad,  I've  six  to  one  the  best  of  that ! 

[Exeunt  LUTIN  and  Fairies. 

Dar.  He  comes  !  At  last  I  shall  behold  my  love ! 
[Enter  ETHAIS  from  bower. 
(Tenderly '.)  How  fares  Sir  Ethais  ? 

Eth.  Why  grievously. 

I  am  no  leech,  and  can  not  dress  my  wound, 
I'm  sick  and  faint  from  pain  and  loss  of  blood. 

Dar.  (aside).  How  shall  I  work  my  end  ?    I  have 

a  plan ! 

Oh,  powers  of  impudence  defend  me  now  ! 
(Aloud).  Sir  Ethais,  if  Phyllon's  words  be  true, 
Thy  wound  is  but  a  scratch. 

Eth.  A  scratch,  forsooth  ! 

The  devil's  nails  could  hardly  scratch  so  deep. 

Dar.  He  says  —  I  don't  believe  him  —  but  he  says 
That  thou  hast  magnified  its  character, 
Because  thou  fearest  to  renew  the  fight. 
He  says  thou  art  a  coward  ! 

Eth.  (furiously).  By  my  blood, 

He  shall  atone  for  that !     Did  he  say  this 
To  thee  ? 

Dar.  Ay,  sir,  to  me  —  a  minute  since. 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  55 

Eth.  Oh,  Phyllon  !  Coward  ?  Why,  a  dozen  times 
We  two  have  fought  our  battles  side  by  side ; 
And  I'm  to  quail  and  blanch,  forsooth,  because 
We  two,  at  last,  are  fighting  face  to  face  ? 
Oh,  curses  on  the  wound  !     Were  Lutin  here, 
My  sword-arm  soon  would  be  in  gear  again. 

Dar.  Lutin  is  here. 

Eth.  (amazed).  Here  ?     Lutin  ? 

Dar.  Yes.     Behold!  (Shows flask) 

I  have  obtained  this  precious  charm  from  him. 
Now,  knight,  to  prove  thy  mettle ! 

Eth.  (furiously].  Give  it  me  — 

Give  me  the  flask  ! 

Dar.  One  moment,  Ethais. 

This  flask  is  precious,  and  it  hath  a  price. 

Eth.  Name  thou  thy  price,  and  I  will  give  it  thee. 
Take  money,  jewels,  armor,  all  I  have, 
So  that  thou  leavest  me  one  trusty  sword ! 

Dar.  No,  Ethais,  I  do  not  want  thy  wealth, 
I  want  thy  love  —  yes,  Ethais,  thy  love  ; 
That  priceless  love  that  thou  hast  lavished  on 
My  worthless  sister. 

Eth.  On  Selene  ? 

Dar.  Yes, 

Thou  lovest  her  —  and  dost  thou  think  that  I 
Will  save  thy  life  for  her  ? 

Eth.  Selene  ?     Bah  ! 

True,  she  is  fair.     Well,  thou  art  also  fair. 
What  does  it  matter  —  her  fair  face  or  thine  ? 
What  matters  either  face  —  or  hers  or  thine  — 


56  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

When  weighed  against  this  outrage  on  my  fame  ? 
Dar.  Give  me  this  ring,  and  thou  shalt  have  the 

charm. 
Eth.  'Tis   thine.     And   now,  Sir   Phyllon,  take 

good  heed ! 

Enter  SELENE  from  bower. 

Sel.  Darine  !     Thou  here,  alone  with  Ethais ! 
No,  no.     I  will  not  doubt  — 

Dar.  Doubt  whom  thou  wilt ! 

Thou  hypocrite  !  thou  shameless  hypocrite  ! 
Thou  wretched  victim  of  thine  own  designs. 

Sel.  Darine,  what  dost  thou  mean  ? 

Enter  Fairies. 

Dar.  Doubt  all  of  us, 

For  we  are  false  to  thee  as  thou  to  us. 
I  am  as  thou  hast  made  me,  hypocrite  ! 

Sel.  Thou  art  to  me  as  thou  hast  ever  been, 
Most  dearly  loved  of  all  these  dearly  loved. 

Dar.  Away  !     Thou  art  the  source  of  all  our  ill ; 
For  though  we  counseled  thee  to  do  the  deed 
That  brought  this  blight  upon  our  innocence, 
'Twas  but  a  test,  and  thou  hast  bent  to  it ! 

Zay.  Oh,  miserable  woman,  get  thee  hence ! 
Thou  art  no  queen  of  ours  ! 

Loc.  Away  with  her ! 

Down  with  the  traitress   queen !     (SELENE   turns 
from  one  to  another  —  all  turn  away  from  her.) 

Sel.  So  let  it  be. 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  57 

Yes,  thou  hast  rightly  said  —  I  had  a  trust. 

I  have  forsaken  it.     Through  my  default, 

The  taint  of  earth  has  fallen  on  our  land. 

Mine  was  the  sin  —  be  mine  the  punishment. 

Well-loved  Darine,  take  thou  this  diadem  : 

Wear  it  more  worthily  than  I.     (Places  her  coronet 

on  DARINE.)     Behold 
How  royally  it  rests  upon  her  brow ! 
My  gentle  sisterhood,  behold  your  queen  !    (Fairies 

bow.) 

Let  her  fair  face  and  form  untainted  yet 
By  the  iniquity  of  my  default, 
Recall  the  loved  Darine  of  yesterday  — 
The  gentle,  loving,  maidenly  Darine  — 
Who  would  have  been  that  loved  Darine  to-day, 
But  for  my  erring  deed.     Oh,  shame  on  me  ! 
Thou  art  as  I  have  made  thee.     Who  am  I 
That  I  should  judge  my  sister  ?     I  am  loved  ; 
But  had  I  lost  that  love,  should  I  have  borne 
My  loss  more  patiently  than  thou  ?     Alas  ! 
Thou,  I,  and  all,  are  now  as  mortals  are. 

Dar.  So  may  I  fall  if  I  forsake  my  trust. 
Thy  punishment  is  just.     Thou  wast  a  queen  — 
What  art  thou  now  ? 

Sel.  I  have  a  kingdom  yet ! 

I  have  a  kingdom  here  —  in  Ethais'  heart. 
A   kingdom  ?      Nay,    a   world  —  my   world  —  my 

world ! 

A  world  where  all  is  pure,  and  good,  and  brave  ; 
A  world  of  noble  thought  and  noble  deed  ; 


58  THE   WICKED   V/ORLD. 

A  world  of  brave  and  gentle  chivalry  ; 
A  very  goodly  and  right  gallant  world  ;  — 
This  is  my  kingdom  —  for  I  am  its  queen  ! 

Dar.  Thou  art  no  queen  of  his,  for  he  is  mine. 
Aye,  by  the  token  that  thou  gavest  him  (shows  ring), 
Thou  fond  and  foolish  maiden ! 

Set.  (Looking  at  it).  No,  no,  no ! 

It  is  a  counterfeit  —  no,  no,  Darine  ! 
The  punishments  of  Heaven  are  merciful. 

(Takes  ETHAIS'S  hand  to  kiss  it;  she  sees  that  the 
ring  is  not  there.) 

Oh,  Ethais ! 
Is  that  the  ring  with  which  I  plighted  thee  ? 

Eth.  Ay,  that's  the  bauble.     I  have  naught  to 
say. 

Sel.  (To  DAR.)    It  fell  from  him — where  didst 
thou  find  it,  speak  ? 

Eth.  I  sold  it  for  a  charm  that  I  might  have 
An  arm  to  flog  a  lying  cur  withal ; 
A  traitor  devil,  whose  false  breath  had  blurred 
My  knightly  honor,  dearer  to  my  heart 
Than  any  love  of  woman  —  hers  or  thine  ! 
I  had  no  choice  —  my  honor  was  at  stake. 

Sel.  Thine  honor !     Thou  dost  well  to  speak  of 

that. 

Can  devils  take  the  face  and  form  of  gods  ? 
Are  truth  and  treachery  so  near  akin 
That  one  can  wear  the  other's  countenance  ? 
Are  all  men  such  as  thou  ?     Or  art  thou  not 
Of  thine  accursed  race  the  most  accursed  ? 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  59 

Why,  honorable  sir,  thou  art  a  knight 

That  wars  with  womankind  !     Thy  panoply 

A  goodly  form,  smooth  tongue,  and  fair  false  face. 

Thy  shield  a  lie  ;  thy  weapon  an  embrace  ; 

The  emblem  of  thy  skill  a  broken  heart ! 

Thine  is  a  gallant  calling,  Ethais  — 

Thou  manly  knight  —  thou  soul  of  chivalry  — 

Thou  most  discreet  and  prudent  warrior ! 

(He  approaches  her.}    Away,  and  touch  me  not !  My 

nature's  gone. 

May  Heaven  rain  down  her  fury  on  thy  soul ! 
May  every  fiber  in  that  perjured  heart 
Quiver  with  love  for  one  who  loves  thee  not ! 
May  thine  untrammeled  soul  at  last  be  caught, 
And  fixed  and  chained  and  riveted  to  one 
Who,  with  the  love  of  heaven  upon  her  lips, 
Carries  the  hate  of  hell  within  her  heart ! 
Thou  phantom  of  the  truth  —  thou  mimic  god  — 
Thou  traitor  to  thine  own  unhappy  soul  — 
Thou  base  apostate  to  the  lovely  faith, 
That  thou  hast  preached  with  such  false  eloquence, 
I  am  thine  enemy  !   (To  her  sisters.)    Look  on  your 

work, 
My  gentle  sisters.     (They  look  in  horror?)     Are  ye 

not  content  ? 
Behold  !  I  am  a  devil,  like  yourselves  ! 


60  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

ACT      III. 

SCENE,  same  as  Acts  I.  and  II. 

LUTIN  discovered  sitting,  in  deep  dejection.  ZAYDA 
is  at  his  feet  trying  to  arouse  him.  ETHAIS  is 
lying  insensible  at  entrance  to  bower,  covered 
with  -a  mantle. 

Zay.  Come,  Lutin,  speak  to  me  —  for  hours  in 

vain 

I've  sought  to  wean  thee  from  thine  inner  self  ; 
I've  sung  in  vain  to  thee  —  thou  wilt  not  sing  — 

Lut.  I  can  not  sing. 

Zay.  Or  dance  ? 

Lut.  I  do  not  dance. 

Zay.  Then  let  us  float  on  yonder  silver  stream 

(they  rise), 

Or  plunge  headlong  into  its  mossy  depths, 
And  wander,  hand  in  hand,  from  grot  to  grot ; 
Or,  if  thou  wilt,  I'll  whirl  thee  through  the  air, 
And  light  with  thee  on  yon  tall  pinnacle. 
Come,  Lutin  —  take  my  hand,  and  we'll  away! 

Lut.  Don't  be  ridiculous  !     I  do  not  fly  ! 
You're  very  good  —  you  mean  it  well,  I  know  — 
But  I've  no  taste  for  such  alarming  joys. 
I  can't  help  thinking  of  my  lost  Darine, 
She  was  so  much  too  good  for  me,  and  now 
/  am  so  much  too  good  for  her ! 

Zay.  Alas ! 

Dost  thou  love  her  ? 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  61 

Lut.  I  can't  help  loving  her. 

Zay.  Dismiss   the  worthless  creature  from  thy 

thoughts. 

I  know  her  well  —  she  don't  deserve  thy  love ! 
She  always  was  a  very  wicked  girl. 

Lut.  Wicked  ?     The  best  of  women  ! 

Zay.  (maliciously).  So  she  seemed. 

Lut.  She  had  her  faults,  I  know. 

Zay.  She  hath  a  soul 

In  which  hypocrisy,  intemperance, 
Hate,  envy,  vanity,  untruthfulness 
Run  riot  at  their  will ! 

Lut.  (astonished).         You  don't  say  so  ? 
I'd  no  idea  of  this  —      (weeping) 

Zay.  As  for  her  crimes  — 

Lut.  Tell  me  the  worse  at  once  ! 

Zay.  The  worst  ?  No,  that 

Would  be  too  cruel  —  but  —  bigamy's  the  best ! 

Lut.  What !     Bigamy  !     Has  she  two  husbands, 
then  ? 

Zay.  Two  ?     Half-a-dozen  ! 

Lut.  What ! 

Zay.  Why  even  now 

She  seeks  to  add  a  seventh  to  her  list ! 
Sir  Ethais  — 

Lut.  Ah,  there  I've  thwarted  her. 

Enter  DARINE,  who  goes  to  ETHAIS.     She  over 
hears  what  follows. 

I  have  a  potion  that  will  heal  his  wounds  ; 
She  begged  it  of  me,  but  I  cheated  her, 

6 


62  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

And  put  into  her  hands  a  sleeping  draught. 
By  this  time  he's  as  helpless  as  the  dead, 
And  she  may  shout  until  she  wakes  the  dead, 
Before  she  wakes  him  ! 

(DARINE  comes  forward.     Exit  ZAYDA,  in  terror?) 

Dar.  (down).     Why,  thou  envious  churl  — 
Thou  wanton  trifler  with  the  purest  fire 
That  ever  burnt  in  love-sick  woman's  breast, 
Why  hast  thou  done  this  thing  ? 

Lut.  She  does  not  quail 

Beneath  her  injured  Lutin's  outraged  eye,  (she goes 

up  to  ETHAIS) 
But  calmly  asks  him  why  he's  done  this  thing ! 

Dar.  Say,  is  he  dead  ?    Come  —  answer  quickly ! 

Lut.  Well, 

He's  dead  to  all  intents  and  purposes. 

Dar.  How  has  he  injured  thee  ? 

Lut.  He  hasn't  as  yet ; 

And  I'll  take  care  he  don't ! 

Dar.  Oh,  misery ! 

In  half-an-hour  my  brothers  will  be  here  ; 
In  half-an-hour  he  must  return  to  earth ! 

(Referring  to  ETHAIS) 

Awake,  insensate  knight —  arouse  thee,  dolt ! 
I  —  I,  Darine,  am  waiting  here  for  thee. 
Dost  thou  not  hear  me  ?     Ethais,  awake ! 

Lut.  Oh  —  shout  away  ! 

Dar.  Oh  !  I  will  be  revenged  ! 

(To  Lutin).  I  know  not  why  thou  wagest  bitter  war 
Against  my  unoffending  happiness  ; 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  63 

But  I  will  thwart  thy  schemes.     Sir  Phyllon  comes  ! 

[Enter  PHYLLON. 

Come  hither,  Phyllon  —  come  to  me,  fair  knight ! 
Say,  dost  thou  love  me  still  ? 

Phy.  Indeed  I  do ! 

Dar.  ( To  LUTIN.)    Thou  hearest  him  —  he  loves 
me! 
(To  PHYLL.)     Tenderly  ? 

Phy.  Most  tenderly  !     (Embracing  her) 

Dar.  He  loves  most  tenderly ! 
He  is  awake ! 

Lut.  Yes,  much  too  wide  awake ! 

Disreputable  woman,  let  him  be  ! 
Unhand  this  lady  ! 

Dar. .  Why,  thou  selfish  knave, 

May  I  love  nobody  on  earth  but  thee  ? 

Lut.     Of  course  you  may  not ! 

Dar.  Go,  sir,  get  thee  gone  ? 
There  are  fair  maids  enough  awaiting  thee  ; 
I  do  not  interfere  'twixt  thee  and  them. 

Lut.  Well  no,  to  do  you  justice,  you  do  not! 
I  do  not  want  them.     I'm  a  married  man  ! 
What  married  man  cares  twopence  for  intrigues 
At  which  his  wife  connives  ? 

Phy.  Is  this  thy  wife  ? 

Lut.  I  blush  to  say  she  is  ! 

Dar.  (amazed).  I  am  thy  wife  ! 

Oh,  monstrous  !    Stay,  there  has  been  some  mistake, 
Some  dreadful  error  !     See,  I've  found  a  clew ! 
No  doubt  I  am  her  fairy  prototype, 


64  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

In  face  resembling  her,  but  that  is  all. 
Lut.  Then  thou  art  not  my  wife  ? 
Dar.  Not  I,  indeed  ! 

(LuxiN  kisses  her.} 
I  am  a  fairy.     Be  thou  reassured  ; 
Thy  wife  is  on  the  earth  (kisses  her  again}  —  Give 

me  the  charm 
To  cure  my  Ethais,  and  sit  thee  down)  lie  gives  it  to 

her), 

And  I  will  send  for  Zayda  and  Locrine, 
And  thou  shalt  talk  of  love  to  both  of  them. 

Lut.  Well  no  —  upon  the  whole  —  I'd  rather  not. 
(DARINE  administers  the  potion  to  ETHAIS,  who 

gradually  revives} 

I  have  reformed,  Darine,  and  had  I  not,     . 
I  don't  think  I  could  talk  to  them  of  love 
With  all  the  eloquence  the  theme  deserves, 
In  the  distracting  company  of  one, 
Who,  if  she's  not  in  point  of  fact  my  wife, 
Is  so  uncomfortably  like  my  wife, 
That  she  may  be  my  wife  for  aught  I  know  ; 
And  more  than  that,  I  can't  stand  tamely  by 
And  notice  with  uninterested  gaze 
A  lady,  who's  so  very  like  my  wife, 
Hanging  on  everybody's  neck  but  mine. 
Don't  send  for  Zayda —  I'm  a  married  man  !  \Exit. 
Dar.  He  wakes  !  He  lives  —  my  own,  own  Ethais  ! 
Eth.  (awaking].     Why — where  am  I?    Havel 

then  been  asleep  ? 

Dar.   Indeed  thou  hast !     See,  thou  must  soon 
return 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  65 

To  yonder  earth  —  I've  much  to  say  to  thee. 

Eth.  But  how  came  I  to  sleep  ?     I  recollect ! 
Thou  gavest  me  a  potion,  and  I — (Sees  PHYLLON) 

Ha !  (Flies  at  his  throat?) 
So  I'm  a  cur,  Sir  Liar,  and  my  wound 
Is  but  a  scratch  which  I  have  magnified 
That  I  might  shun  the  terrors  of  thy  sword ! 

Phy.  Hands  off,  thou  drunken  madman  !  Set  me 

free. 
/  never  said  these  things ! 

Eth.  Thou  craven  cur, 

Dost  thou  then  fear  to  reap  before  my  face 
The  crop  that  thou  hast  sown  behind  my  back  ? 
Thy  life  shall  pay  for  this  ! 

Phy.  (contemptuously).  I  am  not  wont 
To  weigh  the  words  I  speak  to  such  as  thou. 
No  need  to  taint  thine  honor  with  a  lie. 
Why,  Ethais,  the  truth  is  black  enough ; 
I  know  thee  as  a  brawling  tavern  bully, 
A  hollow  friend  —  a  cruel  unsparing  foe  — 
A  reckless  perjurer  —  a  reprobate  — 
The  curse  of  woman  and  the  scourge  of  man  ! 

(Shaking  him  off.) 

Is  not  the  truth  enough,  that  I  should  grudge 
The  one  brute-virtue  of  thy  satyr-soul  — 
The  instinct  courage  of  a  hungry  dog ! 

Eth.  (with  suppressed  fitfy).      I'll  place    these 

charges  to  the  long  account 
That  I've  to  settle  when  we  go  below ! 
(To  Dar).  Didst  thou  not  tell  me  he  had  said  these 
things  ?  6* 


66  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

Dar,  I  did,  indeed  ! 

Phy.  And  by  what  warrant,  pray  ? 

Dar.  It  was  an  artifice  to  gain  thy  love.     (To 

ETHAIS.) 

Has  man  monopoly  of  lover's  lies  ? 
Forgive  me,  Phyllon  — 

Phy.  Bah  ?  Release  my  hand, 

Thou  shameless  woman  —  I  have  done  with  thee. 

[Exit  PHYL. 

Dar.  Oh !  Ethais,  be  not  enraged  with  me  — 
Think  of  my  love  — 

Eth.  The  devil  take  thy  love  — 

I'll  none  of  it !     Begone  !     See,  hither  comes 
The  woman  that  thy  bitter  lie  hath  wronged. 
Hast  thou  the  heart  to  stand  before  her  ? 

Dar.  No!  [Exit. 

Enter  SELENE  from  bower. 

Set.  Thou  here  ?  and  with  Darine  ! 

Eth.  Stay,  hear  me  out ! 

It's  true  I've  trifled  with  thy  love,  but  then 
Thy  love  is  not  as  mortal  woman's  love. 
I  did  not  know  that  it  would  move  thee  thus  ? 

Sel.  Thou  didst  not  know  ! 
Art  thou  so  dull  that  thou  canst  understand 
No  pain  that  is  not  wreaked  upon  thy  frame  ? 
Hast  thou  no  knowledge  of  the  form  of  woe 
That  comes  of  cheated  hopes  and  trampled  hearts  ? 
To  find  thy  love  a  lie,  thy  kiss  a  jest, 
The  bywords  of  thy  love  a  mockery? 


THE   WICKED  WORLD.  67 

Oh,  there  are  words 

For  other  agonies,  but  none  for  this  ! 

Eth.  Nay,  hear  me !     I  have  wronged  thee  bit 
terly  — 
I  will  atone  for  all ! 

Set.  Thou  shalt  atone ; 

I'll  be  the  curse  of  thy  remaining  years  ! 
/Harkye,  Sir  Knight,  I'll  yield  my  fairyhood   ^ 
That  I  may  go  to  yonder  earth,  and  join 
The  whispering  sisterhood  of  hidden  hate. 
The  busy  band  who  bear  within  their  lips 
The  deadliest  weapon  of  earth's  armory  : 
A  blighting  tongue  —  a  woman's  blighting  tongue  ! 
I  will  so  deftly  wield  this  talisman 
To  twist  and  turn  and  torture  good  to  ill, 
That  were  it  in  thee  to  amend  thy  ways, 
Turn  anchorite,  and  yield  to  holy  deeds 
Of  peace  and  prayer,  goodwill  and  charity, 
Thy  holiness  should  seem  an  infamy, 
Thy  peace  a  war,  thy  charity  a  theft, 
Thy  calm  a  fury,  and  thy  prayer  a  curse ! 

Eth.  Stay  thine  unholy  tongue —  go  thou  to  earth, 
And  learn  that  that  which  thou  hast  undergone  — 
All  women  undergo. 

Sel.  Am  I  as  they  ? 

I  am  immortal.     Can  a  few  brief  years 
Of  bitter  shame  and  bitter  sorrow  weigh 
Against  an  immortality  of  woe  ? 
A  mortal's  love  is  framed  to  last  a  life. 
But  my  love  to  outlive  eternity, 


68  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

Blind  mortal,  as  Eternity  to  Time  — 
So  is  my  wrong  to  theirs  ! 

Enter  LOCRINE. 

Loc.  Selene,  see, 

Through  the  far  distant  air,  with  rapid  flight, 
Our  absent  brothers  wing  their  way  to  us  ; 

[Enter  ZAYDA  and  LUTIN. 
These  mortals  must  return  to  their  own  earth ! 
Lut.  Now  by  my  head,  but  this  is  welcome  news  ! 
Zay.  (horrified}.     Return  to  earth  ?     No,  Lutin; 

no,  not  yet. 

Life  without  Lutin  !  what  can  that  be  worth  ? 
Lut.  I  can  not  tell  you  for  I  never  tried. 

[Enter  DARINE  and  PHYLLON  struggling. 
Nay,  seek  not  to  detain  me  ;  I  have  had 
Enough  of  fairy  love  —  I  seek  my  wife. 

Phy.  Come,  Ethais  ;  to  earth,  to  earth  again  ! 
Dar.  (releasing  him).   Ay,  go,  and  take  thy  fellow 
man  with  thee.     (LUTIN  and  PHYLLON  de 
scend!) 
We  want  but  this  to  crown  our  misery ! 

ETHAIS,   about  to  follow    him,    is   detained    by 

SELENE. 
Sel.  (suddenly!)     No  !  no  !     Thou  shalt  not  go, 

thou  shalt  not  go  ! 

My  hope  —  my  shattered  hope  ;  but  still,  my  hope  ! 
My  love  —  my  blighted  love  ;  but  still,  my  love  ! 
My  life  —  my  ruined  life  ;  but  still  my  life  ! 
Forgive  me,  Ethais  :  thou  hast  withdrawn 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  69 

The  very  core  and  substance  of  thy  love. 

No  matter !  give  me  but  the  empty  husk, 

And  it  will  stay  the  famine  of  my  heart. 

I'll  work  and  toil  for  thee  —  I'll  be  thy  slave, 

Thine  humble,  silent,  and  submissive  slave  ; 

I'll  come  but  at  thy  beck  —  I  will  not  speak, 

But  at  thy  word  —  my  Ethais  !  my  love  ! 

(furiously)  Nay,  but  I'll  hold  thee  back !     I  have 
the  strength 

Of  fifty  women !     See,  thou  canst  not  go  !  (with 
passionate  triumph?) 

Nay,  but  I'll  wrest  thy  love  away  from  thee, 

And  fetter  it  in  bondage  to  my  heart. 

I  will  be  one  with  thee  ;  I'll  cling  to  thee, 

And  thou  shall  take  me  to  that  world  of  thine. 
Eth.  Take  thee  to  earth  ?     I  love  the   earth  too 
well 

To  curse  it  with  another  termagant. 

We  have  enough  of  them  !     Release  me,  fool ! 

Man  hath  no  appetite  for  proffered  love  ! 

Away  from  me,  I  go  to  that  good  world 

Where  women  are  not  devils  till  they  die  ! 

\Throws  off  SELENE,  who  falls  senseless.  He 
leaps  through  cloud,  and  descends.  As  ETHAIS 
disappears,  the  fairies^  who  have  grouped 
themselves  about  the  stage  in  attitudes  of 
despair,  gradually  seem  to  wake  as  from  a 
dreamJ\ 
Sel.  Where  am  I  ?  Zayda  !  Neodie  !  Darine  ! 

Oh,  sisters,  I  am  waking  from  a  dream  — 


70  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

A  fearful  dream  —  a  dream  of  evil  thoughts, 
Of  mortal  passion  and  of  mortal  hate, 
I  thought  that  Ethais  and  Phyllon  too 
Had  gone  to  mid-earth  — 

Zay.  Nay,  it  was  no  dream, 

A  sad  and  sorrowful  reality ! 
Yes,  we   have   suffered   much  —  but,  Heaven    be 

praised, 

These  mortal  souls  have  gone  to  their  own  earth, 
And  taken  with  them  the  bad  influence 
That  spread  like  an  infection  through  our  ranks. 
See  !  we  are  as  we  were  !     (Embracing  her.} 

Sel.  Darine  !  Darine  ! 

My  well-beloved  sister  —  speak  to  me  ! 

Dar.  I   dare   not   speak   to   thee  —  I    have    no 

words  — 
I  am  ashamed. 

Sel.  Oh,  sister,  let  that  shame 

Sit  heavily  on  all  —  for  all  have  sinned. 
Oh,  let  us  lay  this  lesson  to  our  hearts  ; 
Let  us  achieve  our  work  with  humbled  souls, 
Free  from  the  folly  of  self-righteousness. 
Behold,  is  there  so  wide  a  gulf  between 
The  humbled  wretch  who,  being  tempted,  falls, 
And  that  good  man  who  rears  an  honored  head 
Because  temptation  hath  not  come  to  him  ? 
Shall  we,  from  our  enforced  security, 
Deal  mercilessly  with  poor  mortal  man, 
Who  struggles,  single-handed,  to  defend 
The  demon-leaguered  fortress  of  his  soul  ? 


THE   WICKED   WORLD.  71 

Shall  we  not  rather  (seeing  how  we  fell) 
Give  double  honor  to  the  champion,  who 
Throughout  his  mortal  peril,  holds  his  own, 
E'en  though 

His  walls  be  somewhat  battered  in  the  fight  ? 
Oh  let  us  lay  this  lesson  to  our  hearts ! 

Enter  LUTIN,  followed  by  ETHAIS  and  PHYL- 
LON,  as  fairies. 

Lut.  Your  brothers  have  returned. 

SeL  (embracing  ETHAIS).  My  Ethais  ! 

Eth.  Selene  —  sisters  all — rejoice  with  us, 
We  bear  the  promise  of  a  priceless  gift, 
A   source   of   new  and   endless   happiness !     (All 

eager  to  know.) 

Take  every  radiant  blessing  that  adorns 
Our  happy  land,  and  all  will  pale  before 
The  luster  of  this  precious  privilege. 
It  is  —  that  we  may  love  as  mortals  love  ! 

SeL  (eagerly).  No,  no  —  not  that  —  no  Ethais  — 

not  that  ! 

It  is  a  deadly  snare  —  beware  of  it ! 
Such  love  is  for  mankind,  and  not  for  us ; 
It  is  the  very  essence  of  the  earth, 
A  mortal  emblem,  bringing  in  its  train 
The  direst  passions  of  its  antitype. 
No,  Ethais  —  we  will  not  have  this  love ; 
Let  us  glide  through  our  immortality 


Upon  the  placid  lake  of  sister-love,        .-. 
Nor  tempt  the  angry  billows  of  a  sea,  / 


72  THE   WICKED   WORLD. 

Which,  though  it  carry  us  to  unknown  lands, 
Is  so  beset  with  rocks  and  hidden  shoals, 
That  we  may  perish  ere  our  vessel  reach 
The  unsafe  haven  of  its  distant  shore. 
No,  Ethais  —  we  will  not  have  this  love  ! 


PYGMALION    AND     GALATEA 

i^tt  ©righral  IPgijwfogkal  C0twirg, 


IN  THREE  ACTS. 


DRAMATIS    PERSON/E. 

PYGMALION,  an  Athenian  Sculptor,  MR.  KENDAL. 

LEUCIPPE,  a  Soldier MR.  HOWE. 

CHRYSOS,  an  Art  Patron     MR.  BUCKSTONE. 

AGESIMOS,  Chrysos's  Slave MR.  BRAID. 

MIMOS,  Pygmaliorfs  Slave MR.  WEATHERSBY. 

GALATEA,  an  Animated  Statue    ...  Miss  M.  ROBERTSON. 

CYNISCA,  Pygmalion's  Wife          ...  Miss  CAROLINE  HILL. 

DAPHNE,  Chrysos's  Wife     MRS.  CHIPPENDALE. 

MYRINE,  Pygmaliorfs  Sister          ...  Miss  MERTON. 


SCENE:   PYGMALION'S  STUDIO. 

t*  The  action  is  comprised  within  the  space  of  twenty-four 
hours. 


PYGMALION  AND  GALATEA. 

ACT   I. 

SCENE:    PYGMALION'S   STUDIO. 

[Several  classical  statues  are  placed  about  the  room  ; 
at  the  back  a  temple  or  cabinet  containing  a 
statue  of  GALATEA,  before  which  curtains  are 
drawn  concealing  the  statue  from  the  audience I\ 

[MiMOS,  a  slave,  is  discovered  at  work  on  a  half  fin 
ished  statue.  To  him  enters  AGESIMOS.] 

Ages,  (haughtily).    Good   day.     Is   this    Pygma 
lion's  studio? 

Mim.  (bowing}.  It  is. 

Ages.  Are  you  Pygmalion  ? 

Mim.  Oh,  no ; 

I  am  his  slave. 

Ages.  And  has  Pygmalion  slaves  ! 

A  sculptor  with  a  slave  to  wait  on  him  : 
A  slave  to  fetch  and  carry  —  come  and  go  — 
And  p'raps  a  whip  to  thrash  him  if  he  don't ! 
What's  the  world  coming  to  ? 

Mim.  What  is  your  will  ? 

75 


76  PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Ages.  This  :  Chrysos  will  receive  Pygmalion 
At  half-past  three  to-day  ;  so  bid  him  come. 

Mim.  And  are  you  Chrysos,  sir  ? 

Ages,  (disconcerted}.  Well,  no  I'm  not. 

That  is,  not  altogether  :  I'm,  in  fact, 
His  slave. 

Mim.  (relieved).  His  slave  ! 

Ages,  (very  proudly).  My  name's  Agesimos  ! 

Mim.  And  has  Agesimos  a  master  then, 
To  bid  him  fetch  and  carry  —  come  and  go  — 
And  wield  a  whip  to  thrash  him  if  he  don't  ? 
What's  the  world  coming  to ! 

Ages.  Poor  purblind  fool ! 

I'd  sooner  tie  the  sandals  of  my  lord, 
Than  own  five  hundred  thousand  such  as  you. 
Whip !  why  Agesimos  would  rather  far 
Be  whipped  by  Chrysos  seven  times  a  day, 
Than  whip  you  hence  to  the  Acropolis  ; 
What  say  you  now  ? 

Mim.  Why,  that  upon  one  point 

Agesimos  and  I  are  quite  agreed. 
And  who  is  Chrysos  ? 

Ages.  Hear  the  slave,  ye  gods ! 

He  knows  not  Chrysos  ! 

Mim.  Verily,  not  I. 

Ages.  He  is  the  chiefest  man  in  Athens,  sir ; 
The  father  of  the  arts  —  a  nobleman 
Of  princely  liberality  and  taste, 
On  whom  five  hundred  starved  Pygmalions 
May  batten  if  they  will. 


PYGMALION  AND   GALATEA.          77 

Enter  PYGMALION. 

Pyg.  Who  is  this  man  ? 

Ages.  I'm  Chrysos's  slave  —  my  name's  Agesi- 

mos. 

Chrysos  has  heard  of  you :  he  understands 
That  you  have  talent,  and  he  condescends 
To  bid  you  call  on  him.     But  take  good  care 
How  you  offend  him :  he  can  make  or  mar. 

Pyg'  Your  master's  slave  reflects  his  insolence ! 
Tell  him  from  me  that,  though  I'm  poor  enough, 
I  am  an  artist  and  a  gentleman. 
He  should  not  reckon  Art  among  his  slaves : 
She  rules  the  world  —  so  let  him  wait  on  her. 

Ages.  This  is  a  sculptor ! 

Pyg.  (furiously).  And  an  angry  one  ! 

Begone,  and  take  my  message  to  your  lord. 

[Exit  AGESIMOS. 
Insolent  Kound ! 

Enter  CYNISCA. 

Cyn.  Pygmalion,  what's  amiss  ? 

Pyg.  Chrysos  has  sent  his  slave  to  render  me  ' 
The  customary  tribute  paid  by  wealth 
To  mere  intelligence. 

Cyn.  Pygmalion ! 

Brooding  on  the  chartered  insolence 
Of  a  mere  slave  !     Dismiss  the  thought  at  once. 
Come,  take  thy  chisel ;  thou  hast  work  to  do 
Ere  thy  wife-model  takes  her  leave  to-day ; 
In  half-an-hour  I  must  be  on  the  road 


78  PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

To  Athens.     Half-an-hour  remains  to  thee  — 
Come  —  make  the  most  of  it  —  I'll  pose  myself  ; 
Say  —  will  that  do  ? 

Pyg.  I  can  not  work  to-day. 

My  hand's  uncertain  —  I  must  rest  awhile. 

Cyn.  Then  rest  and  gaze  upon  thy  masterpiece, 
'Twill  reconcile  thee  to  thyself  —  Behold  ! 
(Draws  curtain  and  discovers  statue  of  GALATEA.) 

Pyg.  Yes  —  for  in  gazing  on  my  handiwork, 
I  gaze  on  heaven's  handiwork  —  thyself  ! 

Cyn.  And  yet,  although  it  be  thy  masterpiece, 
It  has  the  fault  thy  patrons  find  with  all 
Thy  many*  statues. 

Pyg.  What  then  do  they  say  ? 

Cyn.  They   say   Pygmalion's   statues   have    one 

head  — 
That  head,  Cynisca's. 

Pyg*  So  then  it's  a  fault 

To  reproduce  an  hundred  thousand  fold, 
For  the  advantage  of  mankind  at  large, 
The  happiness  the  gods  have  given  me  ! 
Well,  when  I  find  a  fairer  head  than  thine 
I'll  give  my  patrons  some  variety. 

Cyn.  I  would  not  have  thee  find  another  head 
That  seemed  as  fair  to  thee  for  all  the  world  ! 
We'll  have  no  stranger  models  if  you  please, 
I'll  be  your  model,  sir,  as  heretofore, 
So  reproduce  me  at  your  will ;  and  yet 
It  were  sheer  vanity  in  me  to  think 
That  this  fair  stone  recalls  Cynisca's  face  ! 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.          79 

Pyg.  Cynisca's  face  in  every  line  ! 

Cyn.  No,  no ! 

Those  outlines  softened,  angles  smoothed  away, 
The  eyebrows  arched,  the  head  more  truly  poised, 
The  forehead  ten  years  smoother  than  mine  own, 
Tell  rather  of  Cynisca  as  she  was 
When,  in  the  silent  groves  of  Artemis, 
Pygmalion  told  his  love  ten  years  ago  : 
And  then  the  placid  brow,  the  sweet  sad  lips, 
The  gentle  head  down-bent  resignedly, 
Proclaim  that  this  is  not  Pygmalion's  wife, 
Who    laughs    and   frowns,    but    knows    no    meed 

between. 
I  am  no  longer  as  that  statue  is  !    (Closes  curtains^ 

Pyg.  Why  here's  ingratitude,  to  slander  Time, 
Who  in  his  hurried  course  has  passed  thee  by ! 
Or  is  it  that  Cynisca  won't  allow 
That  Time  could  pass  her  by,  and  never  pause 
To  print  a  kiss  upon  so  fair  a  face  ? 
Enter  MYRINE. 

Myr.  Pygmalion  ;  I  have  news. 

Pyg.  My  sister,  speak. 

Myr.  (bashfully].  Send  Mimos  hence. 

Pyg.  (signs  to  MIMOS).     Now  we  are  quite  alone. 

Myr.  Leucippe  — 
"  Cyn.  Well ! 

Myr.  (to  PYG.)  He  was  thy  schoolfellow, 

And  thou  and  he  are  brothers  save  in  blood ; 
He  loves  my  brother  as  a  brother. 

Yes, 


8o  PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

I'm  sure  of  that ;  but  is  that  all  thy  news  ? 
There's  more  to  come  ! 

Myr.  (bashfully).  He  loves  thy  sister  too. 

Pyg.  Why  this  is  news,  Myrine  —  kiss  me  girl. 
I'm  more  than  happy  at  thy  happiness, 
There  is  no  better  fellow  in  the  world  ! 

Cyn.  But  tell  us  all  about  it,  dear.     How  came 
The  awkward,  bashful,  burly  warrior, 
To  nerve  himself  to  this  confession  ? 
LEUCIPPE  appears  at  door. 

Myr.  Why  — 

He's  here  —  and  he  shall  tell  thee  how  it  was. 

Leuc.  In  truth  I  hardly  know  !  I'm  new  at  it; 
I'm  but  a  soldier.     Could  I  fight  my  way 
Into  a  maiden's  heart,  why  well  and  good  ; 
I'd  get  there,  somehow.     But  to  talk  and  sigh, 
And  whisper  pretty  things  —  I  can't  do  that ! 
I  tried  it,  but  I  stammered,  blushed,  and  failed. 
Myrine  laughed  at  me  —  but,  bless  her  heart, 
She  knew  my  meaning,  and  she  pulled  me  through  ! 

Myr.  I  don't  know  how,  Pygmalion,  but  I  did. 
He  stammered,  as  he  tells  you,  and  I  laughed ; 
And  then  I  felt  so  sorry,  when  I  saw 
The  great,  big,  brave  Leucippe  look  so  like 
A  beaten  schoolboy  —  that  I  think  I  cried. 
And  then  —  I  quite  forget  what  happened  next, 
Till,  by  some  means,  we,  who  had  always  been 
So  cold  and  formal,  distant  and  polite, 
Found  ourselves 

Leuc.  Each  upon  the  other's  neck ! 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.  81 

You  are  not  angry  ?  (offering  his  hand}. 

Pyg.  (taking  it}.      Angry  ?  overjoyed  ! 
I  wish  I  had  been  there,  unseen,  to  see ; 
No  sight  could  give  me  greater  happiness  ! 

Leuc.  What !  say  you  so  ?   Why  then,  Myrine,  girl, 
We'll  reproduce  it  for  his  benefit.     (TJiey  embrace} 
See  here,  Pygmalion,  here's  a  group  for  thee  ! 
Come,  fetch  thy  clay,  and  set  to  work  on  it, 
I'll  promise  thee  thy  models  will  not  tire ! 

Cyn.  How  now,  Leucippe,  where's  the  schoolboy 

blush 
That  used  to  coat  thy  face  at  sight  of  her  ? 

Leuc.  The  coating  was  but  thin,  we've  rubbed  it 
off !  (Kisses  MYRINE.) 

Pyg.  Take  care  of  him,  Myrine ;  thou  hast  not 
The  safeguard  that  protects  her.  (Indicating  CYN- 
ISCA.) 

Myr.  What  is  that  ? 

Cyn.  It's  a  strange  story.     Many  years  ago 
I  was  a  holy  nymph  of  Artemis, 
Pledged  to  .eternal  maidenhood  ! 

Leuc.  Indeed ! 

Myr.  How  terrible ! 

Cyn.  It  seemed  not  so  to  me; 

For  weeks  and  weeks  I  pondered  steadfastly 
Upon  the  nature  of  "that  serious  step 
Before  I  took  it  —  lay  awake  at  night, 
Looking  upon  it  from  this  point  and  that, 
And  I  at  length  determined  that  the  vow, 
Which  to  Myrine  seems  so  terrible, 


82  PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Was  one  that  I,  at  all  events,  could  keep. 

Myr.  How  old  wast  thou,  Cynisca  ? 

Cyn.  I  was  ten  ! 

Well  —  in  due  course,  I  reached  eleven,  still 
I  saw  no  reason  to  regret  the  step ; 
Twelve  —  thirteen  —  fourteen    saw    me    still    un 
changed  ; 

At  fifteen,  it  occurred  to  me  one  day 
That  marriage  was  a  necessary  ill, 
Inflicted  by  the  gods  to  punish  us, 
And  to  evade  it  were  impiety ; 
At  sixteen  the  idea  became  more  fixed  ; 
At  seventeen  I  was  convinced  of  it ! 

Pyg.  In  the  mean  time  she'd  seen  Pygmalion. 

Myr.  And  you  confided  all  your  doubts  to  him  ? 

Cyn.  I  did,  and  he  indorsed  them  —  so  we  laid 
The  case  before  my  mistress  Artemis ; 
No  need  to  tell  the  arguments  we  used, 
Suffice  it  that  they  brought  about  our  end. 
And  Artemis,  her  icy  steadfastness 
Thawed  by  the  ardor  of  .Cynisca's  prayers, 
Replied,  "  Go,  girl,  and  wed  Pygmalion ; 
"  But  mark  my  words,  whichever  one  of  you, 
"  Or  he  or  she,  shall  falsify  the  vow 
"  Of  perfect  conjugal  fidelity  — 
"  The  wronged  one,  he  or  she,  shall  have  the  power 
"  To  call  down  blindness  on  the  backslider, 
"  And  sightless  shall  the  truant  mate  remain 
"  Until  expressly  pardoned  by  the  other." 

Leuc.  It's  fortunate  such  powers  as  thine  are  not 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.          83 

In  universal  use  ;  for  if  they  were, 
One-half  the  husbands  and  one-half  the  wives 
Would  be  as  blind  as  night ;  the  other  half, 
Having  their  eyes,  would  use  them  — on  each  other  ! 
MIMOS  enters,  and  gives  PYGMALION  a  scroll,  which 
he  reads. 

Myr.  But  then,  the  power  of  calling  down  this 

doom 

Remains  with  thee.     Thou  wouldst  not  burden  him 
With  such  a  curse  as  utter  sightlessness, 
However  grievously  he  might  offend  ? 

Cyn.  I  love  Pygmalion  for  his  faithfulness  ; 
The  act  that  robs  him  of  that  quality 
Will  rob  him  of  the  love  that  springs  from  it. 

Myr.  But  sightlessness  —  it  is  so  terrible  ! 

Cyn.  And  faithlessness  —  it  is  so  terrible  ! 
I  take  my  temper  from  Pygmalion ; 
C  While  he  is  god-like  —  he's  a  god  to  me, 
And  should  he  turn  to  devil,  I'll  turn  with  him  ; 
I  know  no  half-moods,  I  am  love  or  hate  ! 

Myr.  (to  Leuc^)  What  do  you  say  to  that  ? 

Leuc.  Why,  on  the  whole 

I'm  gladjW/r  not  a  nymph  of  Artemis  ! 

\Exeunt  MYRINE  and  LEUCIPPE. 

Pyg.  I've  brought  him  to  his  senses.     Presently 
My  patron  Chrysos  will  be  here  to  earn 
Some  thousand  drachmas. 

Cyn.  How,  my  love,  to  earn  ? 

He  is  a  man  of  unexampled  wealth, 
And  follows  no  profession. 


84          PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Pyg.  Yes,  he  does ; 

He  is  a  patron  of  the  Arts,  and  makes 
A  handsome  income  by  his  patronage. 

Cyn.  How  so  ? 

Pyg.  He  is  an  ignorant  buffoon, 

But  purses  hold  a  higher  rank  than  brains, 
And  he  is  rich ;  wherever  Chrysos  buys, 
The  world  of  smaller  fools  comes  following, 
And  men  are  glad  to  sell  their  work  to  him 
At  half  its  proper  price,  that  they  may  say, 
"  Chrysos  has  purchased  handiwork  of  ours." 
He  is  a  fashion,  and  he  knows  it  well 
In  buying  sculpture  ;  he  appraises  it 
As  he'd  appraise  a  master-mason's  work  — 
So  much  for  marble,  and  so  much  for  time, 
So  much  for  working  tools  —  but  still  he  buys, 
And  so  he  is  a  patron  of  the  Arts ! 

Cyn.  To  think  that  heaven-born  Art  should* 'be 

the  slave 
Of  such  as  he  ! 

Pyg.  Well,  wealth  is  heaven-born  too. 

I  work  for  wealth. 

Cyn.  Thou  workest,  love,  for  fame. 

Pyg.  And  fame  brings  wealth.     The  thought's 

contemptible, 
But  I  can  do  no  more  than  work  for  wealth. 

Cyn.  Such  words  from  one  whose  noble  work  it  is 
To  call  the  senseless  marble  into  life ! 

Pyg.  Life  !     Dost  thou  call  that  life  ? 

(Indicating  statue  of  GALATEA.) 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.          85 

Cyn.  It  all  but  breathes  ! 

Pyg.  (bitterly}.  It  all  but  breathes  —  therefore  it 

talks  aloud ! 

It  all  but  moves —  therefore  it  walks  and  runs  ! 
It  all  but  lives,  and  therefore  it  is  life  \ 
No,  no,  my  love,  the  thing  is  cold,  dull  stone, 
Shaped  to  a  certain  form,  but  still  dull  stone, 
The  lifeless,  senseless  mockery  of  life. 
The  gods  make  life  :  I  can  make  only  death  ! 
Why,  my  Cynisca,  though  I  stand  so  well, 
The  merest  cut-throat,  when  he  plies  his  trade, 
Makes  better  death  than  I,  with  all  my  skill ! 

Cyn.  Hush,  my  Pygmalion  !  the  gods  are  good, 
And  they  have  made  thee  nearer  unto  them 
Than  other  men  ;  this  is  ingratitude  ! 

Pyg.  Not  so  ;  has  not  a  monarch's  second  son 
More  cause  for  anger  that  he  lacks  a  throne 
Than  he  whose  lot  is  cast  in  slavery  ? 

Cyn.  Not  much  more  cause,  perhaps,  but  more 

excuse. 
Now  I  must  go. 

Pyg.  So  soon,  and  for  so  long ! 

Cyn.  One  day,  'twill  quickly  pass  away ! 

Pyg.  With  those 

Who  measure  time  by  almanacs,  no  doubt, 
But  not  with  him  who  knows  no  days  save  those 
Born  of  the  sunlight  of  Cynisca' s  eyes  ; 
It  will  be  night  with  me  till  she  returns. 

Cyn.  Then  sleep  it  through,  Pygmalion  !  But  stay, 
Thou  shalt  not  pass  the  weary  hours  alone  ; 


86  PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Now  mark  thou  this  —  while  I'm  away  from  thee, 
There  stands  my  only  representative.  (Indicating 

GALATEA.) 

She  is  my  proxy,  and  I  charge  you,  sir, 
Be  faithful  unto  her  as  unto  me  ; 
Into  her  quietly  attentive  ear 
Pour  all  thy  treasures  of  hyperbole, 
And  give  thy  nimble  tongue  full  license,  lest 
Disuse  should  rust  its  glib  machinery  ; 
If  thoughts  of  love  should  haply  crowd  on  thee, 
There  stands  my  other  self-;  tell  them  to  her; 
She'll  listen  well.     (He  makes  a  movement  of  im 
patience^) 

Nay,  that's  ungenerous, 
For  she  is  I,  yet  lovelier  than  I, 
And  hath  no  temper,  sir,  and  hath  no  tongue ! 
Thou  hast  thy  license,  make  good  use  of  it. 
Already  I'm  half  jealous  —  (draws  curtains] 

There,  it's  gone. 

The  thing  is  but  a  statue  after  all, 
And  I  am  safe  in  leaving  thee  with  her ; 
Farewell,  Pygmalion,  till  I  return. 

(Kisses  him,  and  exit.) 
Pyg.  "  The  thing  is  but  a  statue  after  all !  " 
Cynisca  little  thought  that  in  those  words 
She  touched  the  key-note  of  my  discontent  — 
True,  I  have  powers  denied  to  other  men  ; 
Give  me  a  block  of  senseless  marble  —  Well, 
I'm  a  magician,  and  it  rests  with  me 
To  say  what  kernel  lies  within  its  shell ; 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.          87 

It  shall  contain  a  man,  a  woman  —  child — 
A  dozen  men  and  women  if  I  will. 
So  far  the  gods  and  I  run  neck  and  neck ; 
Nay,  so  far  I  can  beat  them  at  their  trade ! 
/  am  no  bungler  —  all  the  men  /  make 
Are  straight-limbed  fellows,  each  magnificent 
In  the  perfection  of  his  manly  grace: 
/make  no  crook-backs  — all  my  men  are  gods, 
My  women  goddesses  —  in  outward  form. 
But  there's  my  tether !  I  can  go  so  far, 
And  go  no  farther  !     At  that  point  I  stop, 
To  curse  the  bonds  that  hold  me  sternly  back : 
To  curse  the  arrogance  of  those  proud  gods, 
Who  say,  "  Thou  shalt  be  greatest  among  men, 
"  And  yet  infinitesimally  small !  " 

GALATEA.  Pygmalion  ! 

Pyg.  Who  called  ? 

Gal.  Pygmalion ! 

[PYG.  tears  away  curtain  and  discovers  GALA 
TEA  alive.] 

Pyg.  Ye  gods  !  It  lives  ! 

Gal.  Pygmalion  ! 

Pyg.  It  speaks ! 

I  have  my  prayer !  my  Galatea  breathes  ! 

Gal.  Where  am  I  ?    Let  me  speak,  Pygmalion ; 
Give  me  thy  hand  —  both  hands — how  soft  and 

warm ! 
Whence  came  I  ?     (Descends?) 

Pyg.  Why,  from  yonder  pedestal ! 

Gal.  That  pedestal  ?     Ah,  yes,  I  recollect, 


88  PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

There  was  a  time  when  it  was  part  of  me. 

Pyg.  That  time  has  passed  for  ever,  thou  art  now 
A  living,  breathing  woman,  excellent 
In  every  attribute  of  womankind. 

Gal.  Where  am  I,  then  ? 

Pyg.  Why,  born  into  the  world 

By  miracle ! 

Gal.  Is  this  the  world  ? 

Pyg.  It  is. 

Gal.  This  room  ? 

Pyg.  This  room  is  portion  of  a  house  ; 

The  house  stands  in  a  grove  ;  the  grove  itself 
Is  one  of  many,  many  hundred  groves 
In  Athens. 

Gal.  And  is  Athens  then  the  world  ? 

Pyg.  To  an  Athenian  —  Yes  — 

Gal.  And  I  am  one  ? 

Pyg.  By  birth  and  parentage,  not  by  descent. 

Gal.  But  how  came  I  to  be  ? 

Pyg.  Well  —  let  me  see. 

Oh  —  you  were  quarried  in  Pentelicus  ; 
I  modeled  you  in  clay  —  my  artisans 
Then  roughed  you  out  in  marble  —  I,  in  turn, 
Brought  my  artistic  skill  to  bear  on  you, 
And  made  you  what  you  are  —  in  all  but  life  — 
The  gods  completed  what  I  had  begun, 
And  gave  the  only  gift  I  could  not  give ! 

Gal.  Then  this  is  life  ? 

Pyg.  It  is. 

Gal.  And  not  long  since 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.          89 

I  was  a  cold,  dull  stone  ?     I  recollect 
That  by  some  means  I  knew  that  I  was  stone: 
That  was  the  first  dull  gleam  of  consciousness  ; 
I  became  conscious  of  a  chilly  self, 
A  cold  immovable  identity, 
I  knew  that  I  was  stone,  and  knew  no  more ! 
Then,  by  an  imperceptible  advance, 
Came  the  dim  evidence  of  outer  things, 
Seen  —  darkly  and  imperfectly  —  yet  seen  — 
The  walls  surrounding  me,  and  I,  alone. 
That  pedestal  —  that  curtain  —  then  a  voice 
That  called  on  Galatea !     At  that  word, 
Which  seemed  to  shake  my  marble  to  the  core, 
That  which  was  dim  before,  came  evident. 
Sounds,  that  had  hummed  around  mer  indistinct, 
Vague,  meaningless  —  seemed  to  resolve  themselves 
Into  a  language  I  could  understand ; 
I  felt  my  frame  pervaded  by  a  glow 
That  seemed  to  thaw  my  marble  into  flesh  ; 
Its  cold  hard  substance  throbbed  with  active  life, 
My  limbs  grew  supple,  and  I  moved  —  I  lived  ! 
Lived  in  the  ecstasy  of  new-born  life  ! 
Lived  in  the  love  of  him  that  fashioned  me ! 
Lived  in  a  thousand  tangled  thoughts  of  hope, 
Love,  gratitude  —  thoughts  that  resolved  themselves 
Into  one  word,  that  word,  Pygmalion  !     (Kneels  to 
him.) 

Pyg.  I  have  no  words  to  tell  thee  of  my  joy, 
O  woman  —  perfect  in  thy  loveliness  ! 

Gal.  What  is  that  word  ?     Am  I  a  woman  ? 


9o  PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Pyg.  Yes. 

Gal.  Art  thou  a  woman  ? 

Pyg.  No,  I  am  a  man. 

Gal.  What  is  a  man  ? 

Pyg.  A  being  strongly  framed, 

To  wait  on  woman,  and  protect  her  from 
All  ills  that  strength  and  courage  can  avert ; 
To  work  and  toil  for  her,  that  she  may  rest ; 
To  weep  and  mourn  for  her,  that  she  may  laugh ; 
To  fight  and  die  for  her,  that  she  may  live ! 

Gal.  (after  a  pause}.     I'm  glad  I  am  a  woman. 

Pyg.  So  am  I.     (They  sit.}— 

Gal.  That  I  escape  the  pains  thou  hast  to  bear  ? 

Pyg.  That  I  may  undergo  those  pains  for  thee. 

Gal.  With  -whom  then  wouldst  thou  fight  ? 

Pyg.  With  any  man 

Whose  deed  or  word  gave  Galatea  pain. 

Gal.  Then  there  are  other  men  in  this  strange 
world  ? 

Pyg.  There  are,  indeed  ! 

Gal.  And  other  women  ? 

Pyg.  (taken  aback).  Yes. 

Though  for  the  moment  I'd  forgotten  it ! 
Yes,  other  women. 

Gal.  And  for  all  of  these 

Men  work,  and  toil,  and  mourn,  and  weep,  and  fight  ? 

Pyg.  It  is  man's  duty,  if  he's  called  upon, 
To  fight  for  all  —  he  works  for  those  he  loves. 

Gal.  Then  by  thy  work  I  know  thou  lovest  me. 

Pyg.  Indeed,  I  love  thee  !     (Embraces  her} 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.          91 

Gal.  With  what  kind  of  love? 

Pyg.  I  love  thee  (recollecting  himself  and  releas 
ing  her]  as  a  sculptor  loves  his  work  ! 
(aside}     There  is  a  diplomacy  in  that  reply.  ^  * 

Gal.  My  love  is  different  in  kind  to  thine  :  \  ^ 
I  am  no  sculptor,  and  I've  done  no  work, 
Yet  I  do  love  thee  :  say  —  what  love  is  mine  ? 

Pyg.  Tell  me  its  symptoms,  then  I'll  answer  thee. 

Gal.  Its  symptoms  ?     Let  me  call  them  as  they 

come. 

A  sense  that  I  am  made  by  thee/<?r  thee ; 
That  I've  no  will  that  is  not  wholly  thine ; 
That  I've  no  thought,  no  hope,  no  enterprise 
That  does  not  own  thee  as  its  sovereign  ; 
That  I  have  life,  that  I  may  live  for  thee, 
That  I  am  thine  —  that  thou  and  I  are  one  ! 
What  kind  of  love  is  that  ? 

Pyg.  A  kind  of  love     ^ 

That  I  shall  run  some  risk  in  dealing  with ! 

Gal.  And  why,  Pygmalion  ? 

Pyg.  Such  love  as  thine 

A  man  may  not  receive,  except  indeed 
From  one  who  is,  or  is  to  be,  his  wife. 

Gal.  Then  /  will  be  thy  wife  ! 

Pyg.  That  may  not  be  ; 

I  have  a  wife  —  the  gods  allow  but  one. 

Gal.  Why  did  the  gods  then  send  me  here  to 
thee  ? 

Pyg.  I  can  not  say  —  unless  to  punish  me 
For  unreflecting  and  presumptuous  prayer  ! 


92  PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

I  prayed  that  thou  shouldst  live  —  I  have  my  prayer, 
And  now  I  see  the  fearful  consequence 
That  must  attend  it ! 

Gal.  Yet  thou  lovest  me  ? 

Pyg.  Who  could  look  on  that  face  and  stifle  love  ? 

Gal.  Then  I  am  beautiful  ? 

Pyg.  Indeed  thou  art. 

Gal.  I  wish  that  I  could  look  upon  myself, 
But  that's  impossible. 

Pyg.  Not  so  indeed. 

This  mirror  will  reflect  thy  face.     Behold  ! 

(Hands  her  a  mirror?) 

Gal.  How  beautiful !     I'm  very  glad  to  know 
That  both  our  tastes  agree  so  perfectly  ; 
Why,  my  Pygmalion,  I  did  not  think 
That  aught  could  be  more  beautiful  than  thou, 
Till  I  beheld  myself.     Believe  me,  love, 
I  could  look  in  this  mirror  all  day  long. 
So  I'm  a  woman ! 

Pyg.  There's  no  doubt  of  that ! 

Gal.  Oh  happy  maid,  to  be  so  passing  fair ! 
And  happier  still  Pygmalion,  who  can  gaze, 
At  will,  upon  so  beautiful  a  face  ! 

Pyg.  Hush  !  Galatea  —  in  thine  innocence 
Thou  sayest  things  that  others  would  reprove. 

Gal.  Indeed,  Pygmalion ;  then  it  is  wrong 
To  think  that  one  is  exquisitely  fair  ? 

Pyg'  Well,  Galatea,  it's  a  sentiment 
That  every  other  woman  shares  with  thee ; 
They  think  it  —  but  they  keep  it  to  themselves. 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.          93 

Gal.  And  is  thy  wife  as  beautiful  as  I  ?     . 

Pyg.  No,  Galatea,  for  in  forming  thee      / 
I  took  her  features  —  lovely  in  themselves  +— 
And  in  the  marble  made  them  lovelier  still. 

Gal.  (disappointed}.  Oh!  then  I'm  not  original? 

Pyg.  Well  —  no  — 

That  is  —  thou  hast  indeed  a  prototype. 
But  though  in  stone  thou  didst  resemble  her, 
In  life  the  difference  is  manifest. 

Gal.  I'm  very  glad  I'm  lovelier  than  she. 
And  am  I  better  ? 

Pyg.  That  I  do  not  know. 

Gal.  Then  she  has  faults  ? 

Pyg.  But  very  few  indeed  ; 

Mere  trivial  blemishes,  that  serve  to  show 
That  she  and  I  are  of  one  common  kin. 
I  love  her  all  the  better  for  such  faults  ! 

Gal.  (after  a  pause].     Tell  me  some  faults  and 
I'll  commit  them  now. 

Pyg.  There  is  no  hurry ;  they  will  come  in  time : 
Though  for  that  matter,  it's  a  grievous  sin 
To  sit  as  lovingly  as  we  sit  now. 

Gal.  Is  sin  so  pleasant  ?     If  to  sit  and  talk 
As  we  are  sitting,  be  indeed  a  sin, 
Why  I  could  sin  all  day  !     But  tell  me,  love, 
Is  this  great  fault  that  I'm  committing  now, 
The  kind  of  fault  that  only  serves  to  show 
That  thou  and  I  are  of  one  common  kin  ? 

Pyg.  Indeed,  I'm  very  much  afraid  it  is. 

Gal.  And  dost  thou  love  me  better  for  such  fault  ? 


94  PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Pyg.  Where  is  the  mortal  that  could  answer  "  no"? 

Gal.  Why  then  I'm  satisfied,  Pygmalion  ; 
Thy  wife  and  I  can  start  on  equal  terms. 
She  loves  thee  ? 

Pyg.  Very  much. 

Gal.  I'm  glad  of  that. 

I  like  thy  wife. 

Pyg.  And  why  ? 

Gal.  Our  tastes  agree. 

We  love  Pygmalion  well,  and  what  is  more, 
Pygmalion  loves  us  both.  I  like  thy  wife ; 
I'm  sure  we  shall  agree. 

Pyg.  (aside}.  I  doubt  it  much  ! 

Gal.  Is  she  within  ? 

Pyg.  No,  she  is  not  within. 

Gal.  But  she'll  come  back  ? 

Pyg.  Oh,  yes,  she  will  come  back. 

Gal.  How  pleased  she'll  be  to  know,  when  she 

returns, 
That  there  was  some  one  here  to  fill  her  place  ! 

Pyg.  (dryly}.  Yes,  I  should  say  she'd  be  extremely 
pleased. 

Gal.  Why,  there  is  something  in  thy  voice  which 

says 

That  thou  art  jesting!     Is  it  possible 
To  say  one  thing  and  mean  another  ? 

Pyg.  Ye's, 

J      It's  sometimes  done. 

.  Gal.  How  very  wonderful ; 

V      So  clever ! 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.          95 

Pyg.          And  so  very  useful. 

Gal  Yes. 

Teach  me  the  art. 

Pyg.  The  art  will  come  in  time. 

My  wife  will  not  be  pleased ;  there —  that's  the  truth. 

Gal.  I  do  not  think  that  I  shall  like  thy  wife. 
Tell  me  more  of  her. 

Pyg.  Well  — 

Gal.  What  did  she  say 

When  last  she  left  thee  ? 

Pyg.  Humph  !    Well,  let  me  see  : 

Oh  !  true,  she  gave  thee  -to  me  as  my  wife,  — 
Her  solitary  representative ; 
She  feared  I  should  be  lonely  till  she  came, 
And  counseled  me,  if  thoughts  of  love  should  come, 
To  speak  those  thoughts  to  thee,  as  I  am  wont   . 
To  speak  to  her. 

Gal  '  That's  right. 

Pyg.  But  when  she  spoke, 

Thou  wast  a  stone,  now  thou  art  flesh  and  blood, 
Which  makes  a  difference  ! 

Gal  It's  a  strange  world  ! 

A  woman  loves  her  husband  very  much, 
And  can  not  brook  that  I  should  love  him  too ; 
She  fears  he  will  be  lonely  till  she  comes, 
And  will  not  let  me  cheer  his  loneliness ; 
She  bids  him  breathe  his  love  to  senseless  stone, 
And  when  that  stone  is  brought  to  life  —  be  dumb  ! 
It's  a  strange  world  —  I  can  not  fathom  it ! 

Pyg.  (aside).  Let  me  be  brave,  and  put  an  end  to 
this. 


96  PYGMALION  AND   GALATEA. 

(alotid).  Come,  Galatea  —  till  my  wife  returns, 
My  sister  shall  provide  thee  with  a  home  ; 
Her  house  is  close  at  hand. 

Gal.  (astonished  and  alarmed}.     Send  me  not 

hence, 
Pygmalion  —  let  me  stay ; 

Pyg.  It  may  not  be. 

Come,  Galatea,  we  shall  meet  again. 

Gal.  (resignedly).  Do  with  me  as  thou  wilt,  Pyg 
malion  ! 
But  we  shall  meet  again  ?  —  and  very  soon  ? 

Pyg.  Yes,  very  soon. 

Gal.  And  when  thy  wife  returns, 

She'll  let  me  stay  with  thee  ? 

Pyg.  I  do  not  know. 

(aside)  Why  should  I  hide  the  truth  from  her  (aloud) 

alas  ! 
I  may  not  see  thee  then. 

Gal.  Pygmalion ! 

What  fearful  words  are  these  ? 

Pyg.  The  bitter  truth. 

I  may  not  love  thee  —  I  must  send  thee  hence. 

Gal.  Recall  those  words,  Pygmalion,  my  love  ! 
Was  it  for  this  that  Heaven  gave  me  life  ? 
Pygmalion,  have  mercy  on  me  ;  see, 
I  am  thy  work,  thou  hast  created  me ; 
The  gods  have  sent  me  to  thee.     I  am  thine, 
Thine  !  only,  and  unalterably  thine  ! 
This  is  the  thought  with  which  my  soul  is  charged. 
Thou  tellest  me  of  one  who  claims  thy  love, 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.          97 

That  thou  hast  love  for  her  alone  :  Alas  ! 
I  do  not  know  these  things  —  I  only  know 
That  Heaven  has  sent  me  here  to  be  with  thee ! 
Thou  tellest  me  of  duty  to  thy  wife, 
Of  vows  that  thou  wilt  love  but  her ;  Alas  ! 
I  do  not  know  these  things  —  I  only  know 
That  Heaven,  who  sent  me  here,  has  given  me 
One  all-absorbing  duty  to  discharge  — 
To  love  thee,  and  to  make  thee  love  again  ! 

{During  this  speech  PYGMALION  has  shown 
symptoms  of  irresolution  ;  at  its  conclusion 
he  takes  her  in  his  arms,  and  embraces  her 
passionately  I\ 


ACT   II. 

SCENE  :  Same  as  Act  /. 

[PYGMALION  discovered  at  work  on  an  unfin 
ished  statue.'] 

Pyg.  To-morrow  my  Cynisca  comes  to  me  ; 
Would  that  she  had  never  departed  hence ! 
It  took  a  miracle  to  make  me  false, 
And  even  then  I  was  but  false  in  thought ; 
A  less  exacting  wife  might  be  appeased 
By  that  reflection.     But  Pygmalion 
Must  be  immaculate  in  every  thought, 
Even  though  Heaven's  armaments  be  ranged 
Against  the  fortress  of  his  constancy  ! 


98          PYGMALION  AND   GALATEA. 

Enter  MYRINE,  in  great  excitement. 

Myr.  Pygmalion ! 

Pyg.  Myrine ! 

Myr.  Touch  me  not, 

Thou  hast  deceived  me,  and  deceived  thy  wife  ! 
Who  is  the  woman  thou  didst  send  to  me 
To  share  my  roof  last  night  ? 

Pyg.  Be  pacified  ; 

Judge  neither  of  us  hastily  ;  in  truth 
She  is  pure,  as  innocent  as  thou. 

Myr.  Oh,  miserable  man  —  confess  the  truth  ! 
Disguise  not  that  of  which  she  boasts  aloud ! 

Pyg.  Of  what  then  does  she  boast  ? 

Myr.  To  all  I  say 

She  answers  with  one  parrot-like  reply, 
"  I  love  Pygmalion  "  —  and  when  incensed 
I  tell  her  that  thou  hast  a  cheated  wife, 
She  only  says,  "  I  love  Pygmalion, 
"  I  and  my  life  are  his,  and  his  alone  !  " 
Who  is  this  shameless  woman,  sir  ?     Confess  ! 

Pyg.  Myrine,  I  will  tell  thee  all.     The  gods, 
To  punish  my  expressed  impiety, 
Have  worked  a  miracle,  and  brought  to  life 
My  statue  Galatea ! 

Myr.  (incredulously).  Marvelous, 
If  it  be  true  ! 

Pyg.  It's  absolutely  true. 

(MYRINE  opens  the  curtains  and  sees  the  pedestal  empty. 

Myr.  The  statue's  gone  !     (GALATEA  appears  at 
door.) 


PYGMALION  AATD    GALATEA.          99 

Pyg.  The  statue's  at  the  door  ! 

Gal.  At  last  we  meet  ?     Oh  !  my  Pygmalion  ! 
What  strange,  strange  things  have  happened  since 
we  met. 

Pyg-  Why,  what  has  happened  to  thee  ? 

Gal.  Fearful  things ! 

(To  MYR.)  I  went  with  thee  into  thine  house  — 

Myr.  Well,  well. 

Gal.  And  then  I  sat  alone  and  wept  —  and  wept 
A  long,  long  time  for  my  Pygmalion. 
Then  by  degrees,  by  tedious  degrees, 
The  light  —  the  glorious  light !  —  the  god-sent  light ! 
I  saw  it  sink  —  sink  —  sink  —  behind  the  world! 
Then  I  grew  cold  —  cold  —  as  I  used  to  be, 
Before  my  loved  Pygmalion  gave  me  life. 
Then  came  the  fearful  thought  that,  by  degrees, 
I  was  returning  into  stone  again ! 
How  bitterly  I  wept  and  prayed  aloud 
That  it  might  not  be  so  !     "  Spare  me,  ye  gods  ! 
Spare  me,"  I  cried,  "for  my  Pygmalion. 
"  A  little  longer  for  Pygmalion  ! 
"  Oh,  take  me  not  so  early  from  my  love  ; 
"  Oh,  let  me  see  him  once  —  but  once  again  !  " 
But  no  —  they  heard  me  not,  for  they  are  good, 
And  had  they  heard,  must  needs  have  pitied  me ; 
They  had  not  seen  thee,  and  they  did  not  know 
The  happiness  that  I  must  leave  behind. 
I  fell  upon  thy  couch  (To  MYRINE)  ;   my  eyelids 

closed ; 
My  senses  faded  from  me  one  by  one ; 


ioo        PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

I  knew  no  more  until  I  found  myself, 
After  a  strange  dark  interval  of  time, 
Once  more  upon  my  hated  pedestal, 
A  statue  —  motionless  —  insensible  ; 
And  then  I  saw  the  glorious  gods  come  down ! 
Down  to  this  room  !  the  air  was  filled  with  them  ! 
They  came  and  looked  upon  Pygmalion, 
And,  looking  on  him,  kissed  him  one  by  one, 
And  said,  in  tones  that  spoke  to  me  of  life, 
"  We  can  not  take  her  from  such  happiness  ! 
"  Live,  Galatea,  for  his  love  !  "     And  then 
The  glorious  light  that  I  had  lost  came  back  — 
There  was  Myrine's  room,  there  was  her  couch, 
There  was  the  sun  in  heaven;  and  the  birds 
Sang  once  more  in  the  great  green  waving  trees, 
As  I  had  heard  them  sing  —  I  lived  once  more 
To  look  on  him  I  love ! 

Myr.  'Twas  but  a  dream  ! 

Once  every  day  this  death  occurs  to  us, 
Till  thou  and  I  and  all  who  dwell  on  earth 
Shall  sleep  to  wake  no  more ! 

Gal.  To  wake  no  more  ? 

Pyg.  That   time  must  come  —  may  be  not  yet 

awhile  — 

Still  it  must  come,  and  we  shall  all  return 
To  the  cold  earth  from  which  we  quarried  thee. 

Gal.  See  how  the  promises  of  new-born  life 
Fade  from  the  bright  hope-picture,  one  by  one ! 
Love  for  Pygmalion,  a  blighting  sin  ; 
His  love  a  shame  that  he  must  hide  away ; 


PYGMALION  AND   GALATEA.         101 

Sleep,  stone-like  senseless  sleep,  our  natural  state ; 
And  life  a  passing  vision  born  thereof ! 
How  the  bright  promises  fade  one  by  one ! 

Myr.  Why   there   are    many   men   whom    thou 

may'st  love ; 
But  not  Pygmalion  — -  he  has  a  wife. 

Gal.  Does  no  one  love  him  ? 

Myr.  Certainly  —  /  do. 

He  is  my  brother. 

Gal.  Did  he  give  thee  life  ? 

Myr.  Why  no  ;  but  then  — 

Gal.  He  did  not  give  thee  life, 

And  yet  thou  lovest  him !     And  why  not  I 
Who  owe  my  very  being  to  his  love  ? 

Pyg.  Well,  thou  may'st  love  me  —  as  a  father. 

Myr.  Yes ; 

He  is  thy  father,  for  he  gave  thee  life. 

Gal.  Well,  as  thou  wilt ;  it  is  enough  to  know 
That  I  may  love  thee.     Wilt  tho.u  love  me  too  ? 

Pyg.  Yes,  as  a   daughter ;   there,  that's  under 
stood. 

Gal.  Then  I  am  satisfied. 

Myr.  (aside}.  Indeed  I  hope 

Cynisca  also  will  be  satisfied  !  [Exit  MYRINE. 

Gal.  ( To  PYG.)  Thou  art  not  going  from  me  ? 

Pyg.  For  a  while. 

Gal.  Oh,  take  me  with  thee ;  leave  me  not  alone 
With  these  cold  .emblems  of  my  former  self ! 

(Alluding  to  statues?) 
I  dare  not  look  on  them ! 
9* 


io2         PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Pyg.  Leucippe  comes, 

And  he  shall  comfort  thee  till  I  return ; 
I'll  not  be  long  ! 

Gal.  Leucippe !     Who's  he  ? 

Pyg.  A  valiant  soldier. 

Gal.  What  is  that? 

Pyg.  A  man, 

Who's  hired  to  kill  his  country's  enemies. 

Gal.  (horrified).  A  paid  assassin  ! 

Pyg-  (annoyed}.  Well,  that's  rather  strong. 

There  spoke  the  thoroughly  untutored  mind  ; 
So  coarse  a  sentiment  might  fairly  pass 
With  mere  Arcadians  —  a  cultured  state 
Holds  soldiers  at  a  higher  estimate. 
In  Athens  —  which  is  highly  civilized  — 
The  soldier's  social  rank  is  in  itself 
Almost  a  patent  of  nobility. 

Gal.  He  kills  !     And  he  is  paid  to  kill ! 

Pyg.  No  doubt. 

But  then  he  kills  to  save  his  countrymen.        • 

Gal.  Whether  his  countrymen  be  right  or  wrong  ? 

Pyg.  He  don't  go  into  that  —  it's  quite  enough 
That  there  are  enemies  for  him  to  kill : 
He  goes  and  kills  them  when  his  orders  come. 

Gal.  How  terrible !     Why,  my  Pygmalion, 
How  many  dreadful  things  thou  teachest  me ! 
Thou  tellest  me  of  death  —  that  hideous  doom 
That  all  must  fill ;  and  having  told  me  this  — 
Here  is  a  man,  whose  business  is  to  kill : 
To  filch  from  other  men  the  priceless  boon 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         103 

That  thou  hast  given  me  —  the  boon  of  life  — 
And  thou  defendest  him ! 

Pyg.  I  have  no  time 

To  make  these  matters  clear — but  here  he  comes, 
Talk  to  him  —  thou  wilt  find  him  kind  and  good, 
Despite  his  terrible  profession. 

Gal.  (in  great  terror).  No ! 

I'll  not  be  left  with  him,  Pygmalion.     Stay ! 
He  is  a  murderer  ! 

Pyg.  Ridiculous ! 

Why,  Galatea,  he  will  harm  thee  not : 
He  is  as  good  as  brave.     I'll  not  be  long, 
I'll  soon  return.     Farewell !  {Exit. 

Gal.  I  will  obey, 

Since  thou  desirest  it ;  but  to  be  left 
Alone  with  one  whose  mission  is  to  kill ! 
Oh,  it  is  terrible ! 

Enter  LEUCIPPE,  with  a  Fawn  that  he  has  shot. 

Leuc.  A  splendid  shot, 

And  one  that  I  shall  never  make  again ! 

Gal.  Monster !     Approach  me  not ! 

(Shrinking  into  corner?) 

Leuc.  Why,  who  is  this  ? 

Nay,  I'll  not  hurt  thee,  maiden ! 

Gal.  Spare  me,  sir ! 

I  have  not  done  thy  country  any  wrong ! 
I  am  no  enemy ! 

Leuc.  I'll  swear  to  that ! 

Were  Athens'  enemies  as  fair  as  thou, 
She'd  never  be  at  loss  for  warriors. 


104        PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Gal.     Oh  miserable  man,  repent !  repent ! 
Ere  the  stern  marble  claim  you  once  again. 

Leuc.  I  don't  quite  understand  — 

Gal.  Remember,  sir, 

The  sculptor  who  designed  you,  little  thought 
That  when  he  prayed  the  gods  to  give  you  life, 
He  turned  a  monster  loose  upon  the  world ! 
See,  there  is  blood  upon  those  cruel  hands ! 
Oh  touch  me  not ! 

Leuc.  (aside}.         Poor  crazy  little  girl ! 
Why  —  there's  no  cause  for  fear — I'll  harm  thee 

not  — 

As  for  the  blood,  this  will  account  for  it  (showing 
Fawn). 

Gal.  What's  that  ? 

Leuc.  A  little  fawn. 

Gal.  It  does  not  move ! 

Leuc.  No,  for  I  wounded  her. 

Gal  Oh,  horrible ! 

Leuc.  Poor  little  thing!     'Twas  almost  accident ; 
I  lay  upon  my  back  beneath  a  tree, 
Whistling  the  lazy  hours  away  —  when  lo ! 
I  saw  her  bounding  through  a  distant  glade ; 
My  bow  was  handy;  in  sheer  wantonness 
I  aimed  an  arrow  at  her,  and  let  fly, 
Believing  that  at  near  a  hundred  yards 
So  small  a  being  would  be  safe  enough, 
But,  strange  to  tell,  I  hit  her.     Here  she  is  ; 
She  moves  —  poor  little  lady  !     Ah,  she's  dead  ! 

Gal.  Oh,  horrible  !  oh,  miserable  man  ! 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         105 

What   have   you   done?  —  (Takes   Fawn   into  her 
arms)  — 

Why,  you  have  murdered  her ! 
Poor  little  thing !  I  know  not  what  thou  art ; 
Thy  form  is  strange  to  me ;  but  thou  hadst  life, 
And  he  has  robbed  thee  of  it !  (Gives  it  back  to 

LEUC.)     Get  you  hence  ! 
Ere  vengeance  overtake  you ! 

Leuc.  Well,  in  truth, 

I  have  some  apprehension  on  that  score. 
It  was  Myrine's  —  though  I  knew  it  not ! 
'Twould  pain  her  much  to  know  that  it  is  dead ; 
So  keep  the  matter  carefully  from  her 
Until  I  can  replace  it.  [Exit  LEUCIPPE  with  Fawn. 

Gal.  Get  you  hence  ; 

I  have  no  compact  with  a  murderer ! 

Enter  MYRINE. 

Myr.  Why,  Galatea,  what  has  frightened  thee  ? 

Gal.  Myrine,  I  have  that  to  say  to  thee 
That  thou  must  nerve  thyself  to  hear.    That  man  — 
The  man  thou  lovest  —  is  a  murderer ! 

Myr.  Poor  little  maid  !     Pygmalion,  ere  he  left, 
Told  me  that  by  that  name  thou  didst  describe 
The  bravest  soldier  that  our  country  owns  ! 
He's  no  assassin,  he's  a  warrior. 

Gal.  Then  what  is  an  assassin  ? 

Myr.  One  who  wars 

Only  with  weak,  defenseless  creatures.     One 
Whose  calling  is  to  murder  unawares. 


io6        PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

My  brave  Leucippe  is  no  murderer 

Gal.  Thy  brave  Leucippe  is  no  longer  brave, 
He  is  a  mere  assassin  by  thy  showing. 
I  saw  him  with  his  victim  in  his  arms, 
His  wicked  hands  dyed  crimson  with  her  blood  ! 
There  she  lay,  cold  and  stark  —  her  gentle  eyes 
Glazed  with  the  film  of  death.    She  moved  but  once, 
She  turned  her  head  to  him  and  tried  to  speak, 
But  ere  she  could  articulate  a  word 
Her  head  fell  helplessly,  and  she  was  dead ! 

Myr.  Why,  you  are  raving,  girl !    Who  told  you 
this  ? 

Gal.  He  owned  it ;  and  he  gloried  in  the  deed. 
He  told  me  how,  in  arrant  wantonness, 
He  drew  his  bow,  and  smote  her  to  the  heart ! 

Myr.  Leucippe  did  all  this !     Impossible  ! 
You  must  be  dreaming  ! 

Gal.  On  my  life,  it's  true. 

See,  here's  a  handkerchief  which  still  is  stained 
With  her  life-blood  —  I  stanched  it  with  my  hand. 

Myr.  Who  was  his  victim  ? 

Gal.  Nay  —  I  can  not  tell. 

Her  form  was  strange  to  me  —  but  here  he  comes  ; 
Oh,  hide  me  from  that  wicked  murderer ! 

Enter  LEUCIPPE. 

Myr.  Leucippe,  can  this  dreadful  tale  be  true  ? 
Leuc.  (to  GAL., .aside).  Thou  should  have  kept  my 

secret.     See,  poor  girl, 
How  it  distresses  her.  (To  MYR.)    It's  true  enough, 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         107 

But  Galatea  should  have  kept  it  close, 
I  knew  that  it  would  pain  thee  grievously. 

Myr.  Some  devil  must  have  turned  Leucippe's 

brain  ! 
You  did  all  this  ? 

Leuc.  Undoubtedly  I  did. 

I  saw  my  victim  dancing  happily 
Across  my  field  of  view  —  I  took  my  bow, 
And,  at  the  distance  of  a  hundred  yards, 
I  sent  an  arrow  right  into  her  heart. 
There  are  few  soldiers  who  could  do  as  much. 

Myr.  Indeed,  I  hope  that  there  are  very  few. 
Oh,  miserable  man  ! 

Leuc.  That's  rather  hard. 

Congratulate  me  rather  on  my  aim, 
Of  which  I  have  some  reason  now  to  boast ; 
As  for  my  victim  —  why,  one  more  or  less, 
What  does  it  matter  ?     There  are  plenty  left ! 
And  then  reflect  —  indeed,  I  never  thought 
That  I  should  hit  her  at  so  long  a  range ; 
My  aim  was  truer  than  I  thought  it  was, 
And  the  poor  little  lady's  dead  ! 

Myr.  Alas.  ! 

This  is  the  calmness  of  insanity. 
What  shall  we  do  ?     Go,  hide  yourself  away  — 

Leuc.  But  — 

Myr.        Not  a  word  —  I  will  not  hear  thy  voice, 
I  will  not  look  upon  thy  face  again ; 
Begone ! 

Gal.         Go,  sir,  or  I'll  alarm  the  house  ! 


io8        PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Leuc.  Well,  this  is  sensibility,  indeed  ! 
Well,  they  are  women  —  women  judge  these  things 
By  some  disjointed  logic  of  their  own, 
That  is  not  given  to  man  to  understand. 
I'm  off  to  Athens  —  when  your  reason  comes 
Send  for  me,  if  you  will.     Till  then,  farewell. 

[Exit  angrily. 

Myr.  Oh,  this  must  be  a  dream,  and  I  shall  wake 
To  happiness  once  more  ! 

Gal.  A  dream  !  no  doubt ! 

We  both  are  dreaming,  and  we  dream  the  same ! 
But  by  what  sign,  Myrine,  can  we  tell 
Whether  we  dream  or  wake  ? 

Myr.  There  are  some  things 

Too  terrible  for  truth,  and  this  is  one. 

Enter  PYGMALION,  with  Fawn. 

Pyg.  Why,  what's  the  matter  with  Leucippe,  girl  ? 
I  saw  him  leave  the  house  and  mount  his  horse 
With  every  show  of  anger. 

Myr.  He  is  mad, 

And  he  hath  done  a  deed  I  dare  not  name. 
Did  he  say  aught  to  thee  before  he  left  ? 

Pyg.  Yes  ;.  when  I  asked  him  what  had  angered 

him 
He  threw  me  this  (showing  Fawn). 

Gal.  (in  extreme  of  horror)  —  His  victim  !  take  it 

hence  ! 
I  can  not  look  at  it ! 

Myr.  Why,  what  is  this  ? 

Gal.  The  being  he  destroyed  in  wantonness  ; 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         109 

He  robbed  it  of  the  life  the  gods  had  given. 
Oh !  take  it  hence,  I  dare  not  look  on  death  ! 

Myr.  Why,  was  this  all  he  killed  ? 

Gal.  (astonished}.  All ! !  !  And  enough ! 

Myr.  Why,  girl  —  thou  must  be  mad !    Pygma 
lion  — 

She  told  me  he  had  murdered  somebody, 
But  knew  not  whom  ! 

Pyg.  The  girl  will  drive  us  mad ! 

Bid  them  prepare  my  horse  —  I'll  bring  him  back. 

[Exit  MYRINE. 

Gal.  Have  I  done  wrong  ?  Indeed,  I  did  not  know : 
Thou  art  not  angry  with  me  ? 

Pyg-  Yes,  I  am  ; 

I'm  more  than  angry  with  thee  —  not  content 
With  publishing  thine  unmasked  love  for  me, 
Thou  hast  estranged  Leucippe  from  his  love 
Through  thine  unwarrantable  foolishness. 

Enter  MIMOS. 

Mim.  Sir,  Chrysos  and  his  lady  are  without. 
Pyg.  I  can  not  see  them   now.      Stay  —  show 
them  in. 

[Exit  MIMOS. 

(To  GAL.)     Go,  wait  in  there.     I'll  join  thee  very 
soon. 

[Exit  GALATEA. 

Enter  DAPHNE. 
Daph.  Where  is  Pygmalion  ? 


no        PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Pyg.  Pygmalion's  here. 

Daph.  We  called  upon  you  many  months  ago, 
But  you  were  not  at  home  —  so  being  here, 
We  looked  around  us  and  we  saw  the  stone 
You  keep  so  carefully  behind  that  veil. 

Pyg.  That  was  a  most  outrageous  liberty. 

Daph.  Sir !  Do  you  know  me  ? 

Pyg.  You  are  Chrysos'  wife. 

Has  Chrysos  come  with  you  ? 

Daph.  He  waits  without 

I  am  his  herald  to  prepare  you  for 
The  honor  he  confers.     Be  civil,  sir, 
And  he  may  buy  that  statue  ;  if  he  does 
Your  fortune's  made  ! 

Pyg.  (to  MIMOS).     You'd  better  send  him  in. 

{Exit  MIMOS. 

Enter  CHRYSOS. 

Chry.  Well  —  is  the  young  man's  mind  prepared  ? 

Daph.  It  is  ; 

He  seems  quite  calm.     Give  money  for  the  stone, 
I've  heard  that  it  is  far  beyond  all  price, 
But  run  it  down ;  abuse  it  ere  you  buy. 

Chry.  (to  PYG.)  Where  is  the  statue  that  I  saw 
last  year  ? 

Pyg.  Sir  —  it's  unfinished  —  it's  a  clumsy  thing. 
I  am  ashamed  of  it. 

Chry.  It  isn't  good. 

There's  want  of  tone ;  it's  much  too  hard  and  thin  ; 
Then  the  half  distances  are  very  crude  — 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.        in 

Oh — very  crude  indeed  —  then  it  lacks  air, 
And  wind  and  motion,  massive  light  and  shade  ; 
It's  very  roughly  scumbled  ;  on  my  soul 
The  scumbling's  damnable ! 

Daph.  (aside  to  him}.  Bethink  yourself  ! 

That's  said  of  painting  —  this  is  sculpture  ! 

Chry.  Eh  ? 

It's  the  same  thing,  the  principle's  the  same ; 
Now  for  its  price.     Let's  see  —  what  will  it  weigh  ? 

Daph.  A  ton,  or  thereabouts. 

Chry.  Suppose  we  say 

A  thousand  drachmas  ? 

Pyg.  No,  no,  no,  my  lord ! 

The  work  is  very  crude  and  thin,  and  then 
Remember,  sir,  the  scumbling  — 

Chry.  Damnable ! 

But  never  mind,  although  the  thing  is  poor, 
'Twill  serve  to  hold  a  candle  in  my  hall. 

Pyg.  Excuse  me,  sir  ;  poor  though  that  statue  be, 
I  value  it  beyond  all  price. 

Chry.  Pooh,  pooh ! 

I  give  a  thousand  drachmas  for  a  stone 
Which  in  the  rough  would  not  fetch  half  that  sum ! 

Daph.  Why  bless  my  soul,  young  man,  are  you 

aware 

We  gave  but  fifteen  hundred  not  long  since 
For  an  Apollo  twice  as  big -as  that  ? 

Pyg.  But  pardon  me,  a  sculptor  does  not  test 
The  beauty  of  a  figure  by  its  bulk. 

Chry.  Ah  !  then  she  Hoes. 


ii2         PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Daph.  Young  man,  you'd  best  take  care, 

You  are  offending  Chrysos  !  \Exit. 

Chry.  And  his  wife,  (going.) 

Pyg.  I  can  not  stay  to  enter  into  that 
Sir,  once  for  all,  the  statue's  not  for  sale.         \Exit. 

Chry.  Sir,  once  for  all,  I  will  not  be  denied  ; 
Confound  it  —  if  a  patron  of  the  arts 
Is  thus  to  be  dictated  to  by  art, 
What  comes  of  that  art  patron's  patronage  ? 
He  must  be  taught  a  lesson  —  where's  the  stone  ? 

(Goes  to  pedestal  and  opens  curtains?) 
It's  gone  !    (Enter  GALATEA,  he  stares  at  her  in 
astonishment)     Hallo  !     What's  this  ? 

Gal.  Are  you  unwell  ? 

Chry.  Oh,  no  —  I  fancied  just  at  first  —  pooh, 

pooh  ! 

Ridiculous.     (Aside).   And  yet  it's  very  like  ! 
(Aloud).     I  know  your  face,  haven't  I  seen  you  in  — 
In  —  in  (puzzling  himself). 

Gal.  In  marble  ?     Very  probably. 

Chry.  Oh,  now  I  understand.    Why  this  must  be 
Pygmalion's  model !     Yes,  of  course  it  is. 
A  very  bold-faced  woman,  I'll  be  bound. 
These  models  always  are.     I'll  speak  with  her. 
Come  hither,  maiden. 

Gal.  (who  has  been  examining  him  in  great  won 
der).     Tell,  me,  what  are  you  ? 

Chry.  What  am  I  ? 

Gal.  Yes,  I  mean,  are  you  a  man  ? 

Chry.  Well, "yes  ;  I'm  told  so. 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         113 

Gal.  Then  believe  them  not, 

They've  been  deceiving  you. 

Chry.  The  deuce  they  have  ! 

Gal.  A  man  is  very  tall,  and  straight,  and  strong, 
With  big  brave  eyes,  fair  face,  and  tender  voice. 
I've  seen  one. 

Chry.  Have  you  ? 

Gal.  Yes,  you  are  no  man. 

Chry.  Does   the  young  person   take   me  for   a 
woman  ? 

Gal.  A  woman  ?     No ;  a  woman's  soft  and  weak, 
And  fair,  and  exquisitely  beautiful. 
/  am  a  woman  ;  you  are  not  like  me. 

Chry.  The  gods  forbid  that  I  should  be  like  you, 
And  farm  my  features  at  so  much  an  hour ! 

Gal.  And  yet  I  like  you,  for  you  make  me  laugh  ; 
You  are  so  round  and  red,  your  eyes  so  small, 
Your  mouth  so  large,  your  face  so  seared  with  lines, 
And  then  you  are  so  little  and  so  fat ! 

Chry.  (aside).  This  is  a  most  extraordinary  girl. 

Gal.  Oh,  stay — I  understand  —  Pygmalion's  skill 
Is  the  result  of  long  experience. 
The  individual  who  modeled  you 
Was  a  beginner  very  probably  ? 

Chry.  (puzzled).  No.     I  have  seven  elder  broth 
ers.     Strange 
That  one  so  young  should  be  so  very  bold. 

Gal.  This  is  not  boldness,  it  is  innocence ; 
Pygmalion  says  so,  and  he  ought  to  know. 

Chry.  No  doubt,  but  I  was  not  born  yesterday. 
(Sits.)  -io* 


1 14        PYGMALION  AND    GALA  TEA. 

Gal.  Indeed !  —  /  was.      (He  beckons  her  to  sit 
beside  him.) 

How  awkwardly  you  sit. 

Chry.  I'm  not  aware  that  there  is  any  thing 
Extraordinary  in  my  sitting  down. 
The  nature  of  the  seated  attitude 
Does  not  leave  scope  for  much  variety. 

Gal.  I  never  saw  Pygmalion  sit  like  that. 

Chry.  Don't  he  sit  down  like  other  men  ? 

Gal.  Of  course ! 

He  always  puts  his  arm  around  my  waist. 

Chry.  The  deuce  he  does  !     Artistic  reprobate  ! 

Gal.  But  you  do  not.     Perhaps  you  don't  know 
how  ? 

Chry.  Oh  yes  ;  I  do  know  how  ! 

Gal.  Well,  do  it  then  ! 

Chry.  It's  a  strange  whim,  but  I  will  humor  her. 
You're  sure  it's  innocence  ?  (Does  so.) 

Gal.  Of  course  it  is. 

I  tell  you  I  was  born  but  yesterday. 

CJiry.  Who  is  your  mother  ? 

Gal.  Mother !  what  is  that  ? 

I  never  had  one.     I'm  Pygmalion's  child  ; 
Have  people  usually  mothers  ? 

Chry.  Well, 

That  is  the  rule. 

Gal.  But  then  Pygmalion 

Is  cleverer  than  most  men. 

Chry.  Yes,  I've  heard 

That  he  has  powers  denied  to  other  men, 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         115 

And  I'm  beginning  to  believe  it ! 

Enter  DAPHNE. 

Daph.  Why 

What's  this  ?  (CHRYSOS  quickly  moves  away  from 
GAL.) 

Chry.     My  wife ! 

Daph.  Can  I  believe  my  eyes  ?  (GAL.  rises. ) 

Chry.  No  ! 

Daph.  Who's  this  woman  ?  Why,  how  very  like  — 

Chry.  Like  what  ? 

Daph.  That  statue  that  we  wished  to  buy. 

The  self-same  face,  the  self-same  drapery, 
In  every  detail  it's  identical. 
Why,  one  would  almost  think  Pygmalion, 
By  some  strange  means,  had  brought  the  thing  to 

life, 
So  marvelous  her  likeness  to  that  stone ! 

Chry.  (aside.}  A  very  good  idea,  and  one  that  I 
May  well  improve  upon.     It's  rather  rash, 
But  desperate  ills  need  desperate  remedies. 
Now  for  a  good  one.     Daphne,  calm  yourself. 
You  know  the  statue  that  we  spoke  of  ?     Well, 
The  gods  have  worked  a  miracle  on  it, 
And  it  has  come  to  life.     Behold  it  here ! 

Daph.  Bah  !    Do  you  think  me  mad  ? 

Gal.  His  tale  is  true. 

I  was  a  cold  unfeeling  block  of  stone, 
Inanimate  —  insensible  —  until 
Pygmalion,  by  the  ardor  of  his  prayers, 


u6        PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Kindled  the  spark  of  life  within  my  frame, 
And  made  me  what  I  am ! 

Chry.   (aside  to  GAL.)         That's  very  good  ; 
Go  on  and  keep  it  up. 

Daph.  You  brazen  girl, 

I  am  his  wife  ! 

Gal.         His  wife  ?  ( To  CHRYSOS.)  Then  get  you 

hence. 
I  may  not  love  you  when  your  wife  is  here. 

Daph.  Why,  what  unknown  audacity  is  this  ? 

Chry.  It's  the  audacity  of  innocence  : 
Don't  judge  her  by  the  rules  that  govern  you, 
She  was  born  yesterday,  and  you  were  not! 
Enter  MIMOS. 

Mini.  My  lord,  Pygmalion's  here. 

Chry.  (aside}.  He'll  ruin  all. 

Daph.  (to  MIMOS).  Who  is  this  woman  ? 

Chry.  Why,  I've  told  you,  she 

Daph.  Stop,  not  a  word  !    I'll  have  it  from  his 
lips! 

Gal.  Why  ask  him  when  I  tell  you  —  ? 

Daph.  Hold  your  tongue  ! 

(To  MIMOS.)  Who  is  this  woman  ?    If  you  tell  a  lie 
I'll  have  you  whipped. 

Mini.  Oh,  I  shall  tell  no  lie  ! 

That  is  a  statue  that  has  come  to  life. 

Chry.  (Aside  to  MIMOS).    I'm  very  much  obliged 
to  you ! 

(Gives  him  money.) 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         117 

Enter  MYRINE. 

Myr.  What's  this  ? 

Is  any  thing  the  matter  ? 

Daph.  Certainly. 

This  woman 

Myr.  Is  a  statue  come  to  life. 

Chry.  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  ! 

Enter  PYGMALION. 

Pyg.  How  now 

Chrysos  ? 

Chry.       The  statue ! 

Daph.  Stop ! 

Chry.  Let  me  explain. 

The  statue  that  I  purchased 

Daph.                                               Let  me  speak. 
Chrysos  —  this  girl,  Myrine,  and  your  slave, 
Have  all  agreed  to  tell  me  she  is 

Pyg.  The  statue,  Galatea,  come  to  life  ? 
Undoubtedly  she  is  ! 

Chry.  It  seems  to  me, 

I'm  very  much  obliged  to  every  one  ! 

Enter  CYNISCA. 

Cyn.  Pygmalion,  my  love  ! 

Pyg.  Cynisca  here ! 

Cyn.  And  even  earlier  than  hoped  to  be. 
(Aside).  Why,  who  are  these  ?  (Aloud.)  I  beg  your 

pardon,  sir, 
I  thought  my  husband  was  alone. 


n8        PYGMALION  AND   GALATEA. 

Daph.  (maliciously).  No  doubt. 

I  also  thought  my  husband  was  alone : 
We  wives  are  too  confiding. 

Cyn.  (aside  to  PYGMALION).     Who  are  these  ? 

Pyg.  Why,  this  is  Chrysos,  this  is  Daphne.    They 
Have  come  — 

Daph.  On  very  different  errands,  sir. 

Chrysos  has  come  to  see  this  brazen  girl : 
/  have  come  after  Chrysos  — 

Chry.  As  you  keep 

So  strictly  to  the  sequence  of  events 
Add  this  —  Pygmalion  came  after  you  ! 

Cyn.  Who  is  this  lady  (alluding  to  GALATEA)  ? 
Why,  impossible  ! 

Daph.  Oh,  not  at  all ! 

Cyn.  (turning  to  pedestal).  And  yet  the  statue's 
gone ! 

Pyg.  Cynisca,  miracles  have  taken  place  ; 
The  gods  have  given  Galatea  life  ! 

Cyn.  Oh,  marvelous  !  Is  this  indeed  the  form 
That  my  Pygmalion  fashioned  with  his  hands  ? 

Pyg.  Indeed  it  is. 

Cyn.  Why,  let  me  look  at  her  ! 

Yes,  it's  the  same  fair  face  —  the  same  fair  form ; 
Clad  in  the  same  fair  folds  of  drapery  ! 

Gal.  And  dost  thou  know  me  then  ? 

Cyn.  Hear  her  !  she  speaks  ! 
Our  Galatea  speaks  aloud  !     Know  thee  ? 
Why  I  have  sat  for  hours,  and  watched  thee  grow ; 
Sat  —  motionless  as  thou  —  wrapped  in  his  work, 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         119 

Save  only  that  in  very  ecstasy 

I  hurried  ever  and  anon  to  kiss 

The  glorious  hands  that  made  thee  all  thou  art ! 

Come  —  let  me  kiss  thee  with  a  sister's  love  (kisses 

her.) 

See,  she  can  kiss  ! 
"  Daph.  Yes,  I'll  be  bound  she  can ! 

Cyn.  Why,  my  Pygmalion,  where  is  the  joy 
That  ought  to  animate  that  face  of  thine, 
Now  that  the  gods  have  crowned  thy  wondrous  skill  ? 

Chry.  (aside  to  PYG.)  Stick  to  our  story;  bold 
faced  though  she  be, 

She's  very  young,  and  may  perhaps  repent ; 
It's  terrible  to  have  to  tell  a  lie, 
But  if  it  must  be  told  —  why,  tell  it  well ! 

Cyn.  I  see  it  all.     I  have  returned  too  soon. ' 

Daph.  No,  I'm  afraid  you  have  returned  too  late ! 
Cynisca,  never  leave  that  man  again, 
Or  leave  him  altogether ! 

Cyn.  (astonished).  Why,  what's  this  ? 

Gal.  Oh,  madam,  bear  with  him,  and  blame  him 

not; 

Judge  him  not  hastily  ;  in  every  word, 
In  every  thought  he  has  obeyed  thy  wish. 
Thou  badst  him  speak  to  me  as  unto  thee ; 
And  he  and  I  have  sat  as  lovingly 
As  if  thou  hadst  been  present  to  behold 
How  faithfully  thy  wishes  were  obeyed  ! 

Cyn.  Pygmalion  !     What  is  this  ? 

Pyg.  (to  GAL.)  Go,  get  thee  hence ; 


120         PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Thou  shouldst  not  see  the  fearful  consequence 
That  must  attend  those  heedless  words  of  thine ! 

Gal.  Judge  him  not  hastily,  he's  not  like  this 
When  he  and  I  are  sitting  here  alone. 
He  has  two  voices,  and  two  faces,  madam, 
One  for  the  world,  and  one  for  him  and  me  ! 

Cyn.  Thy  wife  against  thine  eyes  !  those  are  the 

stakes ! 
Well,  thou  hast  played  thy  game,  and  thou  hast  lost ! 

Pyg.  Cynisca,  hear  me  !     In  a  cursed  hour 
I  prayed  for  power  to  give  that  statue  life. 
My  impious  prayer  aroused  the  outraged  gods, 
They  are  my  judges,  leave  me  in  their  hands  ; 
I  have  been  false  to  them,  but  not  to  thee ! 
Spare  me ! 

Cyn.  Oh,  pitiful  adventurer  ! 

He  dares  to  lose,  but  does  not  dare  to  pay ! 
Come,  be  a  man  !     See,  /  am  brave  enough, 
And  I  have  more  to  bear  than  thou  !     Behold ! 
I  am  alone,  thou  hast  thy  statue  bride ! 
Oh,  Artemis,  my  mistress,  hear  me  now, 
Ere  I  remember  how  I  love  that  man, 
And  in  that  memory  forget  my  shame  ! 
If  he  in  deed  or  thought  hath  been  untrue, 
Be  just  and  let  him  pay  the  penalty ! 

(PYGMALION,  with  an  exclamation,  covers  his 
eyes  with  his  hands?) 

Gal.  Cynisca,  pity  him  ! 

Cyn.  I  know  no  pity,  woman  ;  for  the  act 
That  thawed  thee  into  flesh  has  hardened  me 


PYGMALION  AND   GALATEA.         121 

Into  the  cursed  stone  from  which  thou  cam'st. 
We  have  changed  places ;  from  this  moment  forth 
Be  thou  the  wife  and  I  the  senseless  stone  ! 

(Thrusts  GALATEA  from  her.) 


ACT   III. 

SCENE  :  Same  as  Acts  I.  and  II. 

Enter  DAPHNE. 

Daph.  It  seems  Pygmalion  has  the  fearful  gift 
Of  bringing  stone  to  life.     I'll  question  him 
And  ascertain  how  far  that  power  extends. 

Enter  MYRINE,  weeping. 

Myrine  —  and  in  tears  !     Why,  what's  amiss  ? 

Myr.  Oh,  we  were  all  so  happy  yesterday, 
And  now,  within  twelve  miserable  hours, 
A  blight  has  fallen  upon  all  of  us. 
Pygmalion  is  blind  as  death  itself, 
Cynisca  leaves  his  home  this  very  day, 
And  my  Leucippe  hath  deserted  me ! 
I  shall  go  mad  with  all  this  weight  of  grief ! 

Daph.  All  this  is  Galatea's  work  ? 

Myr.  Yes,  all. 

Daph.  But  can't  you  stop  her  ?  Shut  the  creature 

up, 
Dispose  of  her,  or  break  her  ?     Won't  she  chip  ? 

Myr.  No,  I'm  afraid  not.. 
ii 


122         PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Daph.  Ah,  were  I  his  wife, 

I'd  spoil  her  beauty  !     There' d  be  little  chance 
Of  finding  him  and  her  alone  again  ! 

Myr.  There's  little  need  to  take  precautions  now, 
For  he,  alas  !  is  blind  ! 

Daph.  Blind  !     What  of  that  ? 

Man  has  five  senses  ;  if  he  loses  one 
The  vital  energy  on  which  it  fed 
Goes  to  intensify  the  other  four. 
He  had  five  arrows  in  his  quiver ;  well, 
He  has  shot  one  away,  and  four  remain. 
My  dear,  an  enemy  is  not  disarmed 
Because  he's  lost  one  arrow  out  of  five  ! 

Myr.  The  punishment  he  undergoes  might  well 
Content  his  wife  ! 

Daph.  A  happy  woman,  that ! 

Myr.  Cynisca  happy  ? 

Daph.  To  be  sure  she  is ; 

She  has  the  power  to  punish  faithlessness, 
And  she  has  used  it  on  her  faithless  spouse. 
Had  I  Cynisca's  privilege,  I  swear 
I'd  never  let  my  Chrysos  rest  in  peace, 
Until  he  warranted  my  using  it ! 
Pygmalion's  wronged  her,  and  she's  punished  him. 
What  more  could  woman  want  ? 

Enter  CYNISCA. 

Cyn.  What  more  ?    Why,  this  ! 

The  power  to  tame  my  tongue  to  speak  the  words 
That  would  restore  him  to  his  former  self ! 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         123 

The  power  to  quell  the  fierce,  unruly  soul 

That  battles  with  my  miserable  heart ! 

The  power  to  say,  "  Oh,  my  Pygmalion, 

"  My  love  is  thine  to  hold  or  cast  away, 

"  Do  with  it  as  thou  wilt ;  it  can  not  die  !  " 

I'd  barter  half  my  miserable  life 

For  power  to  say  these  few  true  words  to  him ! 

Myr.  Why,  then  there's  hope  for  him  ? 

Cyn.  There's  none  indeed ! 

This  day  I'll  leave  his  home  and  hide  away 
Where  I  can  brood  upon  my  shame.     I'll  fan 
The  smoldering  fire  of  jealousy  until 
It  bursts  into  an  all-devouring  flame, 
And  pray  that  I  may  perish  in  its  glow ! 

Daph.  That's  bravely  said,  Cynisca !    Never  fear  ; 
Pygmalion  will  give  thee  wherewithal 
To  nurture  it. 

Cyn.  (passionately}.  I  need  not  wherewithal ! 
I  carry  wherewithal  within  my  heart ! 
Oh,  I  can  conjure  up  the  scene  at  will 
When  he  and  she  sit  lovingly  alone. 
I  know  too  well  the  devilish  art  he  works, 
And  how  his  guilty  passion  shapes  itself. 
I  follow  him  through  every  twist  and  turn 
By  which  he  wormed  himself  into  my  heart ; 
I  hear  him  breathing  to  the  guilty  girl 
The  fond  familiar  nothings  of  our  love  ; 
I  hear  him  whispering  into  her  ear 
The  tenderness  that  he  rehearsed  on  me. 
I  follow  him  through  all  his  well-known  moods  — 


i24        PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Now  fierce  and  passionate,  now  fanciful ; 
And  ever  tuning  his  accursed  tongue 
To  chime  in  with  the  passion  at  her  heart : 
Oh,  never  fear  that  I  shall  starve  the  flame ! 
When  jealousy  takes  shelter  in  my  heart, 
It  does  not  die  for  lack  of  sustenance  ! 

Daph.  Come  to  my  home,  and  thou  shalt  feed  it 

there ; 

We'll  play  at  widows,  and  we'll  pass  our  time 
Railing  against  the  perfidy  of  man. 

Cyn.  But  Chrysos  ?  — 

Daph.  Chrysos  ?     Oh,  you  won't  see  him, 

Cyn.  How  so  ? 

Daph.      How  so  ?  I've  turned  him  out  of  doors  ! 
Why,  does  the  girl  consider  jealousy 
Her  unassailable  prerogative  ? 
Thou  hast  thy  vengeance  on  Pygmalion  — 
He  can  no  longer  feast  upon  thy  face. 
Well,  Chrysos  can  no  longer  feast  on  mine ! 
I  can't  put  out  his  eyes  (I  wish  I  could !) 
But  I  can  shut  them  out,  and  that  I've  done. 

Cyn.  I  thank  you,  madam,  and  I'll  go  with  you. 

Myr.  No,  no  ;  thou  shalt  not  leave  Pygmalion  ; 
He  will  not  live  if  thou  desertest  him. 
Add  nothing  to  his  pain  —  this  second  blow 
Might  well  complete  the  work  thou  hast  begun  ! 

Cyn.  Nay,  let  me  go  —  I  must  not  see  his  face  ; 
For  if  I  look  on  him  I  may  relent. 
Detain  me  not,  Myrine  —  fare  thee  well ! 

[Exit  CYNISCA,  MYRINE  follows  her. 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         125 

Daph.  Well,  there'll  be  pretty  scenes  in  Athens 

now 
That  statues  may  be  vivified  at  will. 

(CHRYSOS  enters  unobserved?) 
Why,  I  have  daughters  —  all  of  them  of  age  — 
What  chance  is  there  for  plain  young  women,  now 
That  every  man  may  take  a  block  of  stone 
And  carve  a  family  to  suit  his  tastes  ? 

Chry.  If  every  woman  were  a  Daphne,  man 
Would  never  care  to  look  on  sculptured  stone ! 
Oh,  Daphne  ! 

Daph.  Monster  —  get  you  hence,  away ! 

I'll  hold  no  converse  with  you,  get  you  gone. 
(Aside)  If  I'd  Cynisca's  tongue  I'd  wither  him  ! 
(Imitating  CYNISCA)  "  Oh,  I   can   conjure   up   the 

scene  at  will 

"  Where  you  and  she  sit  lovingly  alone  ! 
"  Oh,  never  fear  that  I  will  starve  the  flame  : 
"  When  jealousy  takes  shelter  in  my  heart, 
"  It  does  not  die  for  lack  of  sustenance  ! " 

Chry.  I'm  sure  of  that !  your  hospitality 
Is  world-renowned.     Extend  it,  love,  to  me ! 
Oh,  take  me  home  again  ! 

Daph.  Home  ?  no,  not  I ! 

Why  I've  a  gallery  of  goddesses, 
Fifty  at  least  —  half-dressed  bacchantes,  too  — 
Dryads  and  water-nymphs  of  every  kind  ; 
Suppose  I  find,  when  I  go  home  to-day, 
That  they've  all  taken  it  into  their  heads 
To  come  to  life  —  what  would  become  of  them, 


126         PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Or  me,  with  Chrysos  in  the  house  ?     No  —  no,         ^ 
They're  bad  enough  in  marble  —  but  in  flesh !  !  ! 
I'll  sell  the  bold-faced  hussies  one  and  all, 
But  till  I've  sold  them,  Chrysos  stops  outside ! 

Chry.  What  have  I  done  ? 

Daph.  What  have  you  not  done  sir  ? 

Chry.  I  can  not  tell  you  —  it  would  take  too  long ! 

Daph.  I  saw  you  sitting  with  that  marble  minx, 
Your  arm  pressed  lovingly  around  her  waist. 
Explain  that  Chrysos. 

Chry.  It  explains  itself : 

I  am  a  zealous  patron  of  the  arts, 
And  I  am  very  fond  of  statuary. 

Daph.  Bah  —  I've  artistic  tastes  as  well  as  you. 
But  still,  you  never  saw  me  sitting  with 
My  arms  around  a  stone  Apollo's  waist ! 
As  for  this  "  statue  "  —  could  I  see  her  now, 
I'd  test  your  taste  for  fragments  ! 

Chry.  Spare  the  girl, 

She's  very  young  and  very  innocent ; 
She  claims  your  pity. 

Daph.  Does  she  ? 

Chry.  Yes,  she  does. 

If  I  saw  Daphne  sitting  with  her  arm 
Round  an  Apollo,  I  should  pity  him. 

Daph.  (relenting).      Woutdyou? 

Chry.  I  should,  upon  my  word,  I  should. 

Daph.  Well,  Chrysos,  thou  art  pardoned.     After 

all 
The  circumstances  were  exceptional. 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         127 

Chry.  (aside}.  Unhappily,  they  were  ! 

Daph.  Come  home,  but  mind 

I'll  sell  my  gallery  of  goddesses ; 
No  good  can  come  of  animating  stone. 

Chry.  Oh,  pardon  me  —  why  every  soul  on.  earth 
Sprang  from  the  stones  Deucalion  threw  behind. 

Daph.  But  then  Deucalion  only  threw  the  stones, 
He  left  it  to  the  gods  to  fashion  them. 

Chry.  (aside — looking  at  her}.     And  we  who've 

seen  the  work  the  gods  turn  out, 
Would  rather  leave  it  to  Pygmalion  ! 

DapJi.  (taking  CHRYSOS'  arm,  who  is  looking  at  a 

statue  of  Venus.) 
Come  along,  do  !  \Exeunt. 

Enter  MYRINE,  in  great  distress. 

Myr.  Pygmalion's  heard  that  he  must  lose  his  wife, 
And  swears,  by  all  the  gods  that  reign  above, 
He  will  not  live  if  she  deserts  him  now  ! 
What  —  what  is  to  be  done  ? 

Enter  GALATEA. 

Gal.  Myrine  here  ! 

Where  is  Pygmalion  ? 

Myr.  Oh,  wretched  girl ! 

Art  thou  not  satisfied  with  all  the  ill 
Thy  heedlessness  has  worked,  that  thou  art  come 
To  gaze  upon  thy  victim's  misery  ? 
Well,  thou  hast  come  in  time  ! 

Gal.  What  dost  thou  mean  ? 


128        PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Myr.  Why  this  is  what  I  mean  —  he  will  not  live 
Now  that  Cynisca  has  deserted  him. 
Oh,  girl,  his  blood  will  be  upon  thy  head ! 

Gal.  Pygmalion  will  not  live !  Pygmalion  die  ! 
And,  I,  alas,  the  miserable  cause ! 
Oh,  what  is  to  be  done  ? 

Myr.  I  do  not  know. 

And  yet  there  is  one  chance,  but  one  alone  ; 
I'll  see  Cynisca,  and  prevail  on  her 
To  meet  Pygmalion  but  once  again. 

Gal.  (wildly}.  But  should  she  come  too  late  ?  He 

may  not  live 
Till  she  returns. 

Myr.  I'll  send  him  now  to  thee, 

And  tell  him  that  his  wife  awaits  him  here. 
He'll  take  thee  for  Cynisca  ;  when  he  speaks, 
Answer  thou  him  as  if  thou  wast  his  wife. 

Gal.  Yes,  yes,  I  understand. 

Myr.  Then  I'll  be  gone. 

The  gods  assist  thee  in  this  artifice !  [Exit  MYRINE. 

Gal.  The  gods  will  help  me,  for  the  gods  are  good. 
Oh,  Heaven,  in  this  great  grief  I  turn  to  thee. 
Teach  me  to  speak  to  him,  as,  ere  I  lived,. 
Cynisca  spake  to  him.     Oh,  let  my  voice 
Be  to  Pygmalion  as  Cynisca's  voice, 
And  he  will  live  —  for  her  and  not  for  me  — 
Yet  he  will  live.     I  am  the  fountain  head 

Enter  PYGMALION,  unobserved,  led  by  MYRINE. 
Of  all  the  horrors  that  surround  him  now, 


PYGMALION  AND   GALATEA.         129 

And  it  is  fit  that  I  should  suffer  this ; 
Grant  this,  my  first  appeal  —  I  do  not  ask 
Pygmalion's  love  ;  I  ask  Pygmalion's  life ! 

(PYGMALION  utters  an  exclamation  of  joy.    She 

rushes  to  him  and  seizes  his  hand?) 
Pygmalion ! 

Pyg.  I  have  no  words  in  which 

To  tell  the  joy  with  which  I  heard  that  prayer. 
Oh,  take  me  to  thine  arms,  my  dearly  loved ! 
And  teach  me  once  again  how  much  I  risked 
In  risking  such  a  heaven-sent  love  as  thine. 

Gal.  (believing  that  he  refers  to  her).    Pygmalion  ! 

my  love  !  Pygmalion  ! 

Once  more  those  words  !  again !  say  them  again ! 
Tell  me  that  thou  forgivest  me  the  ill 
That  I  unwittingly  have  worked  on  thee  ! 

Pyg.  Forgive  thee  f  Why,  my  wife,  I  did  not  dare 
To  ask  thy  pardon,  and  thou  askest  mine, 
The  compact  with  thy  mistress  Artemis 
Gave  thee  a  heaven-sent  right  to  punish  me. 
I've  learnt  to  take  whate'er  the  gods  may  send. 

(GALATEA,  at  first  delighted,  learns  in  the  course 
of  this  speech  that  PYGMALION  takes  her  for 
CYNISCA,  and  expresses  extreme  anguish?) 
Gal.  (with  an  effort?)  But  then,  this  woman,  Gala 
tea — 

Pyg.  Well  ? 

Gal.  Thy  love  for  her  is  dead  ? 
Pyg.  I  had  no  love. 

Gal.  Thou  hadst  no  love  ? 


i3o        PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

Pyg.  No  love.     At  first,  in  truth, 

In  mad  amazement  at  the  miracle 
That  crowned  my  handiwork,  and  brought  to  life 
The  fair  creation  of  my  sculptor's  skill, 
I  yielded  to  her  god-sent'  influence, 
For  I  had  worshiped  her  before  she  lived 
Because  she  called  Cynisca's  face  to  me ; 
But  when  she  lived  —  that  love  died,  word  by  word. 

Gal.  That  is  well  said;  thou  dost  not  love  her 

then  ? 
She  is  no  more  to  thee  than  senseless  stone  ? 

Pyg.  Speak  not  of  her,  Cynisca,  for  I  swear 

Enter  CYNISCA,  unobserved. 

The  unhewn  marble  of  Pentelicus 

Hath  charms  for  me,  which  she,  in  all  her  glow 

Of  womanly  perfection,  could  not  match. 

Gal.  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  that  this  is  so. 
Thou  art  forgiven  !  (Kisses  his  forehead?) 

Pyg.  Thou  hast  pardoned  me, 

And  though  the  law  of  Artemis  declared 
Thy  pardon  should  restore  to  me  the  light 
Thine  anger  took  away,  I  would  be  blind, 
I  would  not  have  mine  eyes  lest  they  should  rest 
On  her  who  caused  me  all  this  bitterness ! 

Gal.  Indeed,  Pygmalion  —  'twere  better  thus  — 
If  thou  couldst  look  on  Galatea  now, 
Thy  love  for  her,  perchance,  might  come  again ! 

Pyg.  No,  no. 

Gal.  They  say  that  she  endureth  pains 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         131 

That  mock  the  power  of  words ! 

Pyg.  It  should  be  so ! 

Gal.  Hast  thou  no  pity  for  her  ? 
Pyg.  No,  not  I. 

The  ill  that  she  hath  worked  on  thee  —  on  me  — 
And  on  Myrine  —  surely  were  enough 
To  make  us  curse  the  hour  that  gave  her  life. 
She  is  not  fit  ;to  live  upon  this  world ! 

Gal.  (bitterly).  Upon  this  worthy  world,  thou  say- 

est  well, 
The  woman  shall  be  seen  of  thee  no  more. 

( Takes  CYNISCA' s  hand  and  leads  her  to  PYG.) 
What  wouldst  thou  with  her  now  ?     Thou  hast  thy 

wife  ! 

(She  substitutes  CYNISCA,  and  retires,  weeping. 
CYNISCA  takes  him  to  her  arms  and  kisses 
him.     He  recovers  his  sight.} 
Pyg.  Cynisca !  see !  the  light  of  day  is  mine ! 
Once  more  I  look  upon  thy  well-loved  face ! 

Enter  MYRINE  and  LEUCIPPE. 

Leu.  Pygmalion !  Thou  hast  thine  eyes  again  ! 
Come  —  this  is  happiness  indeed  ! 

Pyg.  And  thou  ! 

Myrine  has  recalled  thee  ? 

Leu.  No,  I  came, 

But  more  in  sorrow  than  in  penitence  ; 
For  I've  a  hardened  and  a  blood-stained  heart ! 
I  thought  she  would  denounce  me  to  the  law, 
But  time,  I  found,  had  worked  a  wondrous  change ; 


i32         PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA. 

The  very  girl,  who  half-a-day  ago 

Had  cursed  me  for  a  ruthless  murderer, 

Not  only  pardoned  me  my  infamy, 

But  absolutely  hugged  me  with  delight, 

When  she,  with  hungry  and  unpitying  eyes, 

Beheld  my  victim  —  at  the  kitchen  fire ! 

The  little  cannibal ! 

Enter  GALATEA. 

Pyg-  Away  from  me, 

Woman  or  statue !    Thou  the  only  blight 
That  ever  fell  upon  my  love  —  begone, 
For  thou  hast  been  the  curse  of  all  who  fell 
Within  the  compass  of  thy  waywardness ! 

Cyn.  No,  no  —  recall  those  words,  Pygmalion, 
Thou  knowest  not  all. 

Gal.  Nay — let  me  go  from  him ; 

That  curse  —  his  curse  —  still  ringing  in  mine  ears, 
For  life  is  bitterer  to  me  than  death. 

(She  mounts  the  steps  of  pedestal?) 
Farewell,  Pygmalion !     Farewell !     Farewell ! 

( The  curtains  conceal  her.) 

Cyn.  Thou  art  unjust  to  her  as  I  to  thee ! 
Hers  was  the  voice  that  pardoned  thee  —  not  mine. 
I  knew  no  pity  till  she  taught  it  me. 
I  heard  the  words  she  spoke,  and  little  thought 
That  they  would  find  an  echo  in  my  heart ; 
But  so  it  was.     I  took  them  for  mine  own, 
And  asking  for  thy  pardon,  pardoned  thee ! 

Pyg.  (amazed}.  Cynisca !     Is  this  so  ? 


PYGMALION  AND    GALATEA.         133 

Cyn.  In  truth  it  is  ! 

Gal.  (behind curtain).  Farewell,  Pygmalion!  Fare 
well  !  Farewell ! 

(PYGMALION  rushes  to  the  veil  and  tears  it  away, 
discovering  GALATEA  as  a  statue  on  the 
pedestal,  as  in  Act  I.) 


OH  A.RIT 


IN  FOUR  ACTS. 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS. 

DR.  ATHELNEY,  a  Colonial  Bishop- 
Elect  MR.  CHIPPENDALE. 

TED  ATHELNEY,  his  son,  aged  38    ...  MR.  TEESDALE. 

MR.  SMAILEY,  a  Country  Gentleman, 

aged  60  MR.  HOWE. 

FRED  SMAILEY,  his  son,  aged  22    ...  MR.  KENDAL. 

MR.  FITZ  PARTINGTON,  a  Private 

Inquiry  Officer  MR.  BUCKSTONE. 

BUTLER     MR.  CLARK. 

FOOTMAN MR.  JAMES. 

MRS.  VAN  BRUGH,  a  widow,  aged  35  Miss  M.  ROBERTSON. 

(MRS.  KENDAL.) 

EVE,  her  daughter,  aged  17    Miss  AMY  ROSELLE. 

RUTH  TREDGETT,  a  tramp,  aged  37    Miss  WOOLGAR. 

(MRS.  A.  MELLON.) 

ACTS    I.    AND    II. 
BOUDOIR  IN  MRS.  VAN  B  RUG  ITS  COUNTRY  HOUSE. 

ACT   III. 
ROOM  IN  MR.   SMAILEY'S  HOUSE. 

ACT   IV. 

LIBRARY  AT  DR.  ATHELNEY 'S. 
\A  ftw  days'  interval  between  each  Act.] 


CHARITY. 


ACT   I. 

SCENE  :  A  pretty  boudoir  in   MRS.  VAN   BRUGH'S 
country-house. 

EVE  discovered  with  FREDERICK  ;   FREDERICK  on 
chair,  EVE  on  footstool. 

Fred,  (dictating  to  EVE,  who  writes  in  a  memo 
randum  book  at  his  feet).  Let  me  see.  Three 
hundred  oranges,  six  hundred  buns,  thirty  gallons 
of  tea,  twelve  large  plum  cakes.  So  much  for  the 
school-children's  bodies.  As  for  their  minds  — 

Eve.  Oh,  we've  taken  great  care  of  their  minds. 
In  the  first  place,  the  amateur  minstrels  from  Lo- 
croft  are  coming,  with  some  lovely  part  songs. 

Fred.  Part  songs.    Come,  that's  well.    Dr.  Watts? 

Eve.  Oh  dear,  no.  Doctors  Moore  and  Bur 
gess  !  —  Much  jollier.  (He  shakes  his  head  gravely?) 
Then  we  have  a  magic  lantern.  Here  are  the 
views.  (Handing  them?) 

Fred,  (examining  them}.  A  person  on  horseback, 
galloping  at  full  speed.  Here  he  is  again.  Proba 
bly  the  flight  of  Xerxes. 

Eve.  No  —  the  flight  of  John  Gilpin. 

Fred.  Very  trivial,  Eve  dear;  very  trivial. 

12*  137 


138  CHARITY. 


Eve.  Oh,  but  it  will  amuse  them  much  more 
than  the  flight -of  Xerxes. 

Fred,  (gravely).  My  dear  Eve,  is  this  giddiness 
quite  consistent  with  the  nature  of  the  good  work 
before  us  ? 

Eve.  Mayn't  one  be  good  and  jolly  too  ? 

Fred.  Scarcely.  Grave  work  should  be  under 
taken  gravely,  and  with  a  sense  of  responsibility. 

Eve.  But  I  don't  call  a  school  feast  grave  work. 

Fred.  All  work  is  grave  when  one  has  regard  to 
the  issues  that  may  come  of  it.  This  school  feast, 
trivial  as  it  may  seem  to  you  —  this  matter  of  buns 
and  big  plum  cakes — may  be  productive,  for  in 
stance,  of  much  —  of  much  — 

Eve.  Indigestion  ?  That's  grave  indeed !  (He 
seems  annoyed?)  There,  I'm  very  sorry  I  teased 
you,  dear  old  boy ;  but  you  look  at  every  thing 
from  such  a  serious  point  of  view. 

Fred.  Am  I  too  serious  ?  Perhaps  I  am.  And 
yet  in  my  quiet  undemonstrative  way  I  am  very 
happy. 

Eve.  If  you  are  not  happy  dear,  who  should  be  ? 

Fred.  Yes,  Eve,  who  indeed !     (Kisses  her) 

Eve.  I  did  not  mean  that.  There  is  very  little 
in  me  to  make  such  a  man  as  you  happy,  unless  it 
be  the  prospect  of  making  me  as  good  and  earnest 
as  yourself  —  a  poor  prospect,  I'm  afraid,  for  I'm  a 
very  silly  little  girl. 

Fred.  At  least  I  will  try. 

Eve.  Begin  now ;  tell  me  of  my  faults. 


CHARITY.  139 


Fred.  No,  no;  that  would  be  a  very  ungrateful 
task. 

Eve.  Oh,  if  you  neglect  all  tasks  that  are  not 
pleasant,  you  are  too  like  me  to  allow  of  my 
hoping  to  learn  any  thing  of  you. 

Fred.  Very  aptly  put,  Eve.  Well  then,  you  are 
too  giddy,  and  too  apt  to  laugh  when  you  should 
sigh. 

Eve.  Oh,  but  I  am  naturally  rather — jolly.  Mam 
ma  has  taught  me  to  be  so.  Mamma's  views  are 
so  entirely  opposed  to  yours. 

Fred.  Yes ;  I  am  deeply  sorry  for  it.  If  it 
were  not  so,  perhaps  Mrs.  Van  Brugh  would  like 
me  better. 

Eve.  Mamma  does  like  you,  dear.  She  thinks 
you  are  very  grave  and  precise  and  methodical, 
but  I  am  sure  she  likes  you  —  or  why  did  she  con 
sent  to  our  engagement  ? 

Fred.  Because  she  loves  you  so  well  that  she  has 
the  heart  to  thwart  you  in  nothing.  She  is  an  ad 
mirable  woman  —  good,  kind  —  charitable  beyond 
measure  —  beloved,  honored,  and  courted  by  all  — 

Eve.  The  best  woman  in  the  world ! 

Fred.  But  she  does  not  understand  me.  Well, 
time  will  work  a  change,  and  I  must  be  content  to 
wait. 

Enter  SERVANT. 

Servant.  Mr.  Edward  Athelney,  miss,  is  in  the 
drawing  room. 


140  CHARITY. 


Eve.  Dear  me,  how  tiresome. 

Fred,  (calmly).     Miss  Van  Brugh  is  not  at  home. 

Eve  (astonished).     Oh,  Frederick,  I  am  ! 

\Exit  SERVANT. 

Fred.  Well,  yes,  of  course  in  one  sense  you  cer 
tainly  are.  But  being  engaged  upon  a  good  work, 
with  which  an  interruption  would  seriously  inter 
fere,  you  may  be  said  —  metaphorically,  of  course, 
and  for  the  purposes  of  this  particular  case  —  to 
be,  to  a  certain  extent,  out. 

Eve  (puzzled}.  I  am  quite  sure  I  am  at  home, 
dear,  in  every  possible  sense  of  the  word.  You 
don't  dislike  Edward,  do  you  ? 

Fred.  You  know  very  well  that  I  dislike  no  one. 

Eve.  I'm  sure  of  that.     You  love  all  men. 

Fred.  No  doubt,  Eve,  I  love  all  men.  But  you 
will  understand  that  I  love  some  men  less  than 
others ;  and,  although  I  love  Edward  Athelney 
very  much  indeed,  I  love  him,  perhaps,  less  than 
anybody  else  in  the  world. 

Eve.  But  this  is  quite  astonishing!  Has  Ted 
Athelney  a  fault  ?  What  is  it  ?  Come,  sir,  name 
one  fault  if  you  can.  And  mind,  he's  my  big 
brother,  or  as  good,  so  be  careful. 

Fred.  "  Frater  nascitur  non  fit." 

Eve.  Oh! 

Fred.  I  don't  believe  in  your  amateur  brother. 
With  every  desire  to  confine  himself  to  the  duties 
of  the  character  he  undertakes,  he  is  nevertheless 
apt  to  overlook  the  exact  point  where  the  brother 
ends  and  the  lover  begins. 


CHARITY.  141 


Eve  (puzzled}.     The  lover ! 

Fred.  The  brother  by  birth  keeps  well  within 
bounds,  but  the  amateur  treads  so  often  on  the 
border  line  that  in  time  it  becomes  obliterated  and 
the  functions  merge. 

Eve.  Ted  Athelney  a  lover  of  mine  !  Oh,  that's 
too  absurd.  Ted  Athelney  —  that  great,  clumsy, 
middle-aged,  awkward,  good-natured,  apple-faced 
man,  a  lover  of  anybody's,  and  least  of  all,  of  mine ! 
Why  he's  forty!  Oh,  it's  shocking  —  it's  horrible! 
I  won't  hear  any  thing  so  dreadful  of  any  one  I  love 
so  much. 

Fred.  You  admit  that  you  love  him  ? 

Eve.  Oh,  yes,  I  love  him  —  but  I  don't  LOVE  him. 
(Nestling  against  FRED.)  Don't  you  understand  the 
difference  ? 

Fred.  I  don't  like  his  calling  you  Eve. 

Eve.  Why  you  wouldn't  have  him  —  oh,  you  never 
could  want  Ted  Athelney  to  call  me  Miss  Van 
Brugh  ? 

Fred.  Then  he  kisses  you. 

Eve.  Of  course  he  does,  dear.  Kisses  me  ?  So 
does  mamma ! 

Fred.  No  doubt,  but  there's  some  difference. 

Eve.  A  difference  !     What  difference  ? 

Fred.  This,  if  no  other:  that  I  object  to  the  one, 
and  don't  object  to  the  other.  (Turns  away?) 

Eve.  (disappointed}.  Then  I'm  not  to  kiss  Ted 
Athelney 'any  more. 


142  CHARITY. 


Enter  TED  ATHELNEY. 

Ted.  Well,  Eve,  old  lady,  here  I  am,  back  again  — 
well  and  hearty. 

Eve.  Ted,  stand  back ;  I'm  not  to  kiss  you. 

Ted.  Eh?     Why  not? 

Eve.  It's  wrong.  "-Isn't  it  ?     (To  FRED.) 

Fred.  I'm  sorry  you  think  it  necessary  to  ask 
the  question. 

Eve.  There,  Ted.  Only  think  of  the  wrong  we've 
been  doing  for  years  and  years,  and  never  knew  it ! 

Ted.  But  who  told  you  it  was  wrong.  Not  con 
science,  I'll  be  sworn. 

Eve.  No  ;  that's  the  worst  of  it.  There's  some 
thing  wrong  with  my  conscience ;  it  doesn't  seem 
to  be  up  to  its  work.  From  some  motive  —  mis 
taken  politeness,  perhaps  —  it  declines  to  assert 
itself.  Awful,  isn't  it  ? 

Ted.  Come,  something's  happened  during  my 
absence  in  town  ;  tell  me  what  it  is. 

Eve.  Something  of  a  tremendous  nature  has  hap 
pened  !  Ted  Athelney,  I  mustn't  call  you  Ted 
Athelney  any  longer ! 

Ted.  What? 

Eve.  And  I  mustn't  let  you  kiss  me,  because  I'm 
going  to  be  married. 

Ted.  Married!     (Starting) 

Eve.  Yes. 

Ted.  To  —  ?     (Indicating  FREDERICK.) 

Eve.  Yes.  (He  is  much  agitated)  Won't  you 
tell  me  that  you  are  glad  to  hear  it  ? 


CHARITY.  143 


Ted.  (after  a  pause).  Yes,  Eve,  I'm  glad  of  any 
thing  that  makes  you  happy.  It  has  come  upon  me 
very  suddenly.  I  never  thought  of  your  getting 
married.  I  was  a  great  ass,  for  it  must  have  come 
about  some  time  or  other,  and  why  not  now  ?  and  it 
must  have  been  to  some  fellow,  and  why  not  Fred 
Smailey  ?  God  bless  you,  Eve.  I  must  get  it  well 
into  my  mind  before  I  can  talk  about  it,  and  mine  is 
a  mind  that  takes  a  good  deal  of  getting  at.  I  hope 
and  believe  that  you  will  be  happy.  (She  retires.) 
Fred,  old  man  — 

(Goes  to  FRED  ;    takes  his  hand  and  tries  to 
speak,  but  in  vain.) 

Enter  MRS.  VAN  BRUGH. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Well,  I've  done  for  myself  now  ;  go 
away  from  me ;  I'm  a  pariah,  an  outcast ;  don't,  for 
goodness'  sake,  be  seen  talking  with  me. 

Eve.  Why,  mamma,  dear,  what  on  earth  have  you 
been  doing  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Doing  ?  Listen  and  shudder  !  I've 
put  a  Dissenter  into  my  almshouses  !  (Sits  at  table.) 

Fred,   (rising).  A  Dissenter  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  A  real  live  Dissenter.    Isn't  it  awful! 

Fred.  No,  awful  is  too  strong  a  term  ;  but  I  think 
it  was  a  very,  very  sad  mistake. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  A  thousand  thanks  for  your  tolera 
tion  —  I  shall  never  forget  it.  The  village  is  out 
raged  —  they  have  stood  my  eccentricities  long 
enough.  It  was  bad  enough  when  I  put  a  Roman 


144  CHARITY. 


Catholic  in,  but  in  consideration  of  the  almshouses 
being  my  own  they  were  good  enough  to  swallow 
the  Roman  Catholic.  Then  came  a  Jew  —  well, 
the  village  was  merciful,  and  with  a  few  wry  faces 
they  swallowed  even  the  Jew.  But  a  Dissenter ! 
The  line  must  be  drawn  somewhere,  and  High  and 
Low  Church  are  agreed  that  it  must  be  drawn  at 
Dissenters.  The  churchwardens  look  the  other  way 
when  I  pass.  The  clerk's  religious  zeal  causes  him 
to  turn  into  the  "  Red  Cow,"  rather  than  touch  his 
hat  to  me,  and  even  the  dirty  little  boys  run  after 
me  shouting  "  No  Popery  "  at  the  top  of  their  voices, 
though  I'm  sure  I  don't  see  how  it  applies. 

Fred.  But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  you  mean 
well  I'm  sure  —  but  a  Jew,  a  Catholic,  and  a  Dis 
senter  !  —  is  there  no  such  thing  as  a  starving 
Churchman  to  be  found  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  There  are  but  too  many  starving  men 
of  all  denominations,  but  while  I'm  hunting  out  the 
Churchman,  the  Jew,  the  Catholic  and  the  Dissen 
ter  will  perish,  and  that  would  never  do,  would  it  ? 

Fred.  That  is  the  Christianity  of  impulse.  I 
would  feed  him  that  belonged  to  my  own  church, 
and  if  he  did  not  belong  to  it,  I  would  not  feed  him 
at  all. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  That  is  the  Christianity  of  Religious 
Politics.  As  to  these  poor  people,  they  will  shake 
down  and  agree  very  well  in  time.  Nothing  is  so 
conducive  to  toleration  as  the  knowledge  that  one's 
bread  depends  upon  it.  It  applies  to  all  conditions 


CHARITY.  145 


of  life,  from  almshouses  to  Happy  Families.  Where 
are  you  going  ? 

Eve.  We  are  going  down  to  the  school  to  see  the 
cakes  and  oranges  and  decorations  — 

Fred,  (seriously}.  And  to  impress  upon  the  chil 
dren  the  danger  of  introducing  inharmonious  ele 
ments  into  their  little  almshouses. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Well,  I  hope  you'll  be  more  success 
ful  with  them  than  with  me.  Their  case  is  much 
more  critical  than  mine,  I  assure  you.  (Exeunt 
EVE  and  FRED.  MRS.  VAN  BRUGH  sees  EDWARD, 
who  is  sitting  at  back,  with  his  head  between  his 
hands)  Why,  who's  this  ?  Edward  Athelney,  re 
turned  at  last  to  his  disconsolate  village  ?  Go  away, 
sir  —  don't  come  near  me — you're  a  reprobate  — 
you've  been  in  London  ten  days  and  nobody  to  look 
after  you.  Give  an  account  of  yourself.  It's  awful 
to  think  of  the  villainy  a  thoroughly  badly  disposed 
young  man  can  get  through  in  ten  days  in  London, 
if  I'm  not  there  to  look  after  him  —  come,  sir,  all 
your  crimes,  please,  in  alphabetical  order  —  now 
then,  A  —  Arson.  Any  arson  ?  No  ?  Quite  sure  ? 
Come  now,  that's  something — Then  we  go  to  Bur 
glary  ?  Bigamy  ?  No  Bigamy  ?  Come,  it's  not  as 
bad  as  I  thought.  —  Why  (seeing  that  he  looks  very 
wretched],  what  on  earth  is  the  matter  —  why,  my 
poor  Ted  —  what  is  distressing  you  ?  I  never  saw 
you  look  so  wretched  in  my  life ! 

Ted.  Oh  !  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  I'm  awfully  unhappy ! 

Mrs.  V.  B.  My  poor  old  friend  —  tell  me  all 
about  it.  13 


146  CHARITY. 


Ted.  It's  soon  told  —  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  you  have 
a  daughter,  who's  the  best  and  loveliest  girl  I  ever 
saw  in  my  life. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (pause).  My  poor  Edward ! 

Ted.  Did  — did  you  know  that  I  —  that  I  was  like 
this  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  No!  no!' no! 

Ted.  Nor  I,  it  came  on  me  like  a  thunderclap  — 
my  love  for  that  little  girl  has  grown  as  impercep 
tibly  as  my  age  has  grown  —  I've  taken  no  note  of 
either  till  now  —  when  I  rub  my  eyes  and  find  that 
I  love  her  dearly,  and  that  I'm  eight-and-thirty  ! 

Mrs.  V.  B.  But,  surely  you  know  —  you  must 
have  heard  — 

Ted.  Yes,  yes,  I've  just  heard  —  Fred  Smailey's 
a  lucky  fellow,  and  he  deserves  his  luck. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Perhaps.  I  don't  know.  I  don't  like 
Fred  Smailey. 

Ted.  (amazed}.  You  don't  like  Smailey? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  No,  I  don't,  and  I'm  afraid  I  show  it. 
My  dear  old  friend,  it  would  have  made  me  very 
happy  to  have  seen  you  married  to  Eve,  but  he  was 
first  in  the  field,  and  she  loves  him.  At  first  I 
wouldn't  hear  of  it  —  but  she  fell  ill  —  might  have 
died  —  well  I'm  her  mother,  and  I  love  her,  and  I 
gave  in.  I  know  nothing  against  him. 

Ted.  Oh,  Fred  Smailey's  a  good  fellow,  a  thor 
ough  good  fellow.  You  do  him  an  injustice,  indeed 
you  do  ;  I  never  knew  a  man  with  such  a  sense  of 
gratitude  —  it's  perfectly  astonishing.  Remember 


CHARITY.  147 


how  he  gave  me  that  splendid  colly,  when  I  pulled 
him  out  of  the  ice,  last  February,  and  how  in  return 
for  my  lending  him  money  to  pay  his  college  debts, 
he  got  his  father  to  let  me  shoot  over  Rushout  — 
no  —  no  —  if  Fred  Smailey  has  a  fault,  he's  too 
good  for  this  world. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Is  he  ?  —  at  all  events  he's  too  solemn. 

Ted.  Here's  the  dad  coming  —  he  mustn't  see  me 
like  this.  Good-by,  Mrs.  Van  Brugh.  You  won't 
speak  of  this  to  any  one,  I  know  —  not  that  I've 
reason  to  be  ashamed  of  it,  but  it'll  pain  Eve  and 
Fred  too.  I'll  bear  up,  never  fear,  and  Eve  shall 
never  know  —  after  all,  her  happiness  is  the  great 
end,  and,  so  that  it's  brought  about,  what  matter 
whether  Fred  or  I  do  it,  so  that  it's  done.  It's 
Fred's  job,  not  mine — better  luck  for  him,  worse 
luck  for  me.  [Exit. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Poor  fellow  !  There  goes  a  heart  of 
gold  with  a  head  of  cotton-wool !  Oh,  Eve,  Eve,  my 
dear,  I'm  very  sad  for  you  !  Is  it  head  or  heart  that 
makes  the  best  husband  ?  Better  that  baby-hearted 
simpleton  than  the  sharpest  Smailey  that  ever 
stepped  !  I'm  very  unjust.  Heaven  knows  that  I, 
of  all  women  in  this  world,  should  be  slow  to  judge. 
But  my  dislike  to  that  man,  to  his  family,  to  every 
thing  that  relates  to  him,  is  intuitive.  However, 
the  mischief,  if  mischief  there  be,  is  done ;  I'll 
make  the  best  of  it. 


148  CHARITY. 


Enter  DR.  ATHELNEY,  very  hurriedly. 

Dr.  A.  My  dear  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  I  come  with 
out  a  moment's  loss  of  time,  to  thank  you  in  my 
late  curate  Twemlow's  name  for  your  great  kind 
ness  in  presenting  him  to  the  Crabthorpe  living. 
He  has  a  wife  and  four  children,  and  is  nearly  mad 
with  joy  and  gratitude.  I've  brought  you  his 
letter. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  I  won't  read  it,  doctor.  I  can't  bear 
gratitude ;  it  makes  my  eyes  red.  Take  it  away.  I 
am  only  too  glad  to  have  helped  a  struggling  and 
deserving  man.  Now,  I'm  very  glad  you've  come, 
because  I  want  to  consult  you  on  a  business  matter 
of  some  importance. 

Dr.  A.  My  dear  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  I  have  been  the 
intellectual  head  of  this  village  for  fifty-three  years, 
and  nobody  ever  yet  paid  me  the  compliment  of 
consulting  me  on  a  matter  of  business. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Then  I've  no  doubt  I'm  going  to  hit 
upon  a  neglected  mine  of  commercial  sagacity ! 

Dr.  A.  It's  very  possible.  I  was  second  wrangler 
of  my  year. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  I  told  you  last  night  of  Eve's  engage 
ment.  Well,  old  Mr.  Smailey  has  sent  me  a  note 
to  say  that  he  will  call  on  me  to-morrow  week  to 
talk  over  the  settlement  I  propose  to  make  on  the 
occasion  of  my  darling's  marriage  with  his  son. 
Now,  doctor,  look  as  wise  as  you  can,  and  tell  me 
what  I  ought  to  do. 


CHARITY.  149 


Dr.  A.  Well,  in  such  a  case  I  should  be  very 
worldly.  I  think,  my  dear,  I  should  prepare  a  nice 
little  luncheon,  with  a  bottle  of  that  Amontillado, 
and  then,  having  got  him  quietly  and  cosily  tete-&- 
tete,  I  should  ask  him  what  he  proposes  to  do. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Very  good  indeed,  doctor.  Upon 
my  word,  for  a  colonial  bishop-elect,  that's  not  bad. 
But,  unfortunately,  I've  already  ascertained  that  he 
proposes  to  do  nothing.  All  his  money  is  tied  up. 

Dr.  A.  Oh,  is  it  indeed  ?  Bless  me !  Tied  up, 
is  it  ?  And  may  I  ask,  what  do  you  understand  by 
that  expression  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Well,  in  round  terms,  it's  his,  but  he 
mustn't  spend  it.  Do  you  understand  ? 

Dr.  A.  Oh,  yes.  When  I  was  a  boy  my  uncle 
gave  me  a  guinea  on  those  terms. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Now  come,  doctor  dear,  the  young 
people  look  to  me,  and,  when  one  is  looked  to,  one 
should  be  equal  to  the  emergency.  What  would 
you  advise  me  to  do  ? 

Dr.  A.    Your  property  is  not,  I  suppose,  tied  up  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  No ;  it  is  quite  unfettered,  and  con 
sists  principally  of  long  leaseholds  and  funded 
property,  left  me  by  my  godfather,  and  a  small 
sum  of  money  acquired  by  Captain  Van  Brugh  on 
his  first  marriage. 

Dr.  A.  His  first  marriage !  Bless  me,  I  never 
knew  he  had  been  married  before. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Yes  (much  agitated],  a  most  unhap 
py  match.  She  —  she  left  him  under  discredit- 


150  CHARITY. 


able  circumstances  —  went  to  Australia  —  resumed 
her  maiden  name,  and,  under  that  name,  died  in 
Melbourne. 

Dr.  A.  And  when  did  this  unhappy  lady  die  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (still  agitated}.  Oh!  years  ago  — 
It's  a  terrible  story.  I  don't  like  to  think  of  it —  I 
can't  bear  to  talk  of  it. 

Dr.  A.  (aside).  What  a  blundering  old  savage  I 
am  !  If  there  is  a  pitfall  open,  ten  to  one  I  tumble 
into  it!  (Aloud.)  I  have  always  understood  that 
where  marriage  settlements  of  any  consideration 
are  concerned,  it  is  customary  to  employ  a  solicitor. 
I  can't  quote  my  authority,  but,  I  feel  sure  that  I 
am  right. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Old  Mr.  Smailey  is  an  executor  under 
Captain  Van  Brugh's  will,  and  his  solicitor  has 
always  acted  for  me. 

Dr.  A.  His  solicitor  !  what,  that  queer  little  red- 
faced  fellow  who  accompanies  him  everywhere  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  No.  Ha  !  ha !  ha !  I  suppose  Mr.  Fitz 
Partington  is  a  junior  partner,  or  head  clerk,  or 
something  of  the  kind  —  at  all  events,  his  name 
doesn't  appear  in  the  firm. 

Dr.  A.  Well,  leave  it  to  me,  Mrs.  Van  Brugh, 
and  I'll  write  to  my  brother,  the  Vice-Chancellor, 
who  will  tell  us  what  to  do.     Now  I'm  off.     (Noise 
without?)      Why  —  what's   this  ?     Bless    me,   Mrs. 
Van  Brugh,  what  is  the  cause  of  this  commotion  ? 
(Noise  heard  without,  as  of  people  struggling 
wit/i   a   woman,  who  rudely  expostulates 
with  them.) 


CHARITY.  151 


Mrs.  V.  B.  Why,  what  in  the  world  is  the  matter  ? 

Enter  three  or  four  SERVANT  MEN  with  RUTH 
TREDGETT  in  custody.  She  is  wild-looking 
and  dishevelled,  as  if  she  had  been  struggling 
violently. 

Groom.  We've  got  her,  ma'am.  Don't  be  afraid. 
(To  RUTH.)  Stand  quiet,  you  jade,  will  yer  ?  Woa, 
there  !  We've  got  her,  sir,  but  we've  had  a  desper 
ate  hard  job  to  do  it. 

Dr.  A.  What  has  been  done  ? 

Groom.  She's  knocked  two  teeth  clean  out  of  my 
head,  sir,  and  give  notice  to  quit  to  a  dozen  more. 

Dr.  A.  We  will  hear  your  grievance  presently. 
What  has  this  woman  done  that  she  is  brought 
here  ? 

All.  Done,  sir,  why  — 

But.  (with  dignity  to  the  others].  If  you  please  ! 
(To  MRS.  VAN  BRUGH)  Ma'am,  Edwards  found  this 
here  woman  creepin'  out  of  my  pantry,  ma'am,  on 
all  fours. 

Dr.  A.  On  what? 

But.  On  her  hands  and  knees,  like  a  quadruped, 
sir. 

Dr.  A.  Have  you  searched  her  ? 

But.  (shocked).  No,  sir,  I  have  not  searched  her. 

Dr.  A.  Well,  well,  I  mean  has  she  been  searched  ? 

But.  (with  dignity}.  I  put  my  hand  in  her 
pocket,  sir,  and  I  looked  under  her  shawl. 

Dr.  A.  Well,  you  didn't  search  her,  but  you  put 


152  CHARITY. 


your  hand  in  her  pocket,  and  you  looked  under  her 
shawl.  What  did  you  find  there  ? 

But.  A  decanter  of  sherry,  sir.     (Producing  it.) 

Dr.  A.  (to  MRS.  V.  B.).  Your  sherry,  Mrs.  Van 
Brugh  ? 

But.  Our  sherry,  Dr.  Athelney. 

Dr.  A.  Well,  you  hear  what  this  man  says ;  did 
you  take  this  wine  ? 

Ruth.  Ay,  I  took  it,  sure  enough. 

Dr.  A.  Why  did  you  take  it  ? 

Ruth.  Why,  to  drink,  of  course.  Why  should  I 
take  it  ? 

Dr.  A.  You  shouldn't  take  it. 

Ruth.  Don't  you  never  take  wine  ? 

Dr.  A.  Not  other  people's  wine  —  except,  of 
course,  with  their  permission. 

Ruth.  Maybe  you've  got  a  cellar  of  your  own. 

Dr.  A.  Maybe  I  have. 

Ruth.  Well,  maybe  /  haven't.  That's  my 
answer. 

Dr.  A.  Now,  what  are  we  to  do  with  her? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Leave  her  to  me.  Dr.  Athelney, 
please  remain  here  with  me.  Every  one  else, 
except  the  woman,  leave  -the  room. 

But.  She's  a  desperate  character,  ma'am ;  it  took 
six  of  us,  including  me,  to  bring  her  here. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Never  mind.  Dr.  Athelney  and  I 
will  see  her  alone.  Take  your  hands  from  her  and 

go- 

But.  Hadn't  we  better  keep  within  hearing  ?  If 
help  was  wanted  — 


CHARITY.  153 


Mrs.  V.  B.  No  help  will  be  wanted.  I  am  in 
earnest.  Go.  Shut  the  door.  (The  SERVANTS 
reluctantly  depart?) 

Ruth.  You're  a  cool  hand,  missis ;  ain't  you 
afeard  on  me  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Not  at  all.  Why  should  I  be  afraid 
of  you  ?  I  mean  you  no  harm. 

Ruth.  Who's  he  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Dr.  Athelney,  a  clergyman  and  a 
magistrate. 

Ruth.  Beak,  is  he  ?  Well,  let  him  make  out  the 
committal.  Where's  it  to  be  ?  Sessions  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  We  have  no  wish  to  prosecute  you. 
We  wish  to  help  you  to  arrive  at  a  sense  of  right 
and  wrong. 

Ruth.  Can't  it  be  done  without  a  parson  ?  I 
dunno  much  good  o'  parsons.  I'd  rather  it  was 
done  without  a  parson. 

Dr.  A.  (kindly}.  Don't  think  of  me  as  a  clergy 
man,  if  that  calling  is  distasteful  to  you.  Perhaps 
some  day  we  may  succeed  in  overcoming  your 
prejudice.  In  the  mean  time,  think  of  me  only  as 
a  harmless  old  gentleman,  who  is  willing  and  able 
to  help  you  to  earn  your  living  respectably,  if  you 
desire  to  do  so. 

Ruth.  Ah,  I've  come  across  the  likes  o'  you  afore 
now.  Three  weeks  agone  comes  a  parson,  as  it 
might  be  you.  "  I've  come  to  help  you,  poor  fallen 
creetur,"  says  he  ;  "  I've  come  to  tell  you  blessed 
truths,  poor  miserable  outcast,"  says  he.  "Read 


iS4  CHARITY. 


that,  wretched  lost  sheep,"  says  he.  "  I'll  call 
again  in  a  month  and  see  how  you  feel,"  says  he. 
A  month  !  Heugh  !  When  I  was  bad  with  fever' 
the  doctor  come  every  day.  He  never  come  no 
more.  There's  ladies  come  odd  times.  I  call  to 
mind  one  —  come  in  a  carriage  she  did.  Same 
story  —  poor,  miserable,  lost  one  —  wretched  aban 
doned  fellow-creetur,  and  that.  She  called  me  a 
brand  from  the  burnin',  and  wanted  to  stretch  out 
a  hand  to  save  me,  she  did.  Well,  she  stretched  it 
out,  and  I  thought  she  meant  it  (for  I  was  green 
then),  and,  fool-like,  I  took  it,  and  kissed  it.  She 
screeched  as  though  I'd  bit  her ! 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Will  you  take  my  hand  ? 

Ruth,  (astonished).  Do  you  know  what  I  am  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Yes  ;  I  know  well  what  you  are.  You 
are  a  woman  who  wants  help,  and  I  a  woman  who 
will  help  you.  (Taking  Jier  hand). 

Ruth,  (much  moved).  Thankee,  missis  !  you've 
spoke  fair  to  me.  I've  had  no  one  speak  like 
that  to  me  for  many  a  long  year.  Thankee,  missis. 
(Struggling  with  tears.)  Don't  mind  me.  (Throws 
her  apron  over  her  face  and  sobs.)  They  will  come 
odd  times  ! 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Will  you  tell  me  your  name  ? 

Ruth.  Ruth  Tredgett.     I  come  from  Cambridge. 

Dr.  A.  Born  there  ? 

Ruth.  I  dunno  as  I  was  born  there,  but  I  come 
from  there. 

Dr.  A.  What  are  you  ? 


CHARITY.  155 


Ruth.  I  s'pose  I'm  a  thief.  I  s'pose  I'm  what 
gentlefolk  thinks  is  wus  than  a  thief.  God  help 
me!  I  s'pose  I'm  as  bad  as  I  can  be.  (Weeping?) 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Are  your  parents  alive  ? 

Ruth.  No,  I  never  had  no  father  —  my  mother 
was  such  as  me.  See  here,  lady.  Wot's  to 
become  of  a  gal  whose  mother  was  such  as  me  ? 
Mother  !  Why,  I  could  swear  afore  I  could  walk ! 

Dr.  A.  But  were  you  not  brought  up  to  any 
calling  ? 

Ruth.  Yes,  sir,  I  were  ;  I  were  brought  up  to  be 
a  thief.  Every  soul  as  I  knowed  was  a  thief,  and 
the  best  thief  was  the  best  thought  on.  Maybe  a 
kid  not  long  born  ought  to  have  knowed  better.  I 
dunno,  I  must  ha'  been  born  bad,  for  it  seemed 
right  enough  to  me.  Well,  it  was  in  prison  and 
out  o'  prison  —  three  months  here  and  six  months 
there  —  till  I  was  sixteen.  I  sometimes  thinks  as 
if  they'd  bin  half  as  ready  to  show  me  how  to  go 
right  as  they  was  to  punish  me  for  goin'  wrong,  I 
might  have  took  the  right  turnin'  and  stuck  to  it 
afore  this.  At  sixteen  I  got  seven  year  for  shop- 
liftin',  and  was  sent  out  to  Port  Philip.  I  soon  got 
a  ticket  and  tried  service  and  needlework,  but  no 
one  wouldn't  have  me  ;  and  I  got  sick  and  tired  of 
it  all,  and  began  to  think  o'  putting  a  end  to  it, 
when  I  met  a  smooth-spoken  chap  —  a  gentleman, 
if  you  please  —  as  wanted  to  save  me  from  the 
danger  afore  me.  Well,  wot  odds  ?  He  was  a 
psalm-singing  villain,  and  he  soon  left  me.  No 


156  CHARITY. 


need  to  tell  the  rest  —  to  such  as  you  it  can't  be 
told.  I'm  'most  as  bad  as  I  can  be  —  as  bad  as  I 
can  be  ! 

Mrs.  V.  B.  I  think  not ;  I  think  not.  What  do 
you  say,  Doctor  ? 

Dr.  A.  (struggling  with  his  tears).  Say,  ma'am  ? 
I  say  that  you,  Ruth  Tredgett,  have  been  a  most 
discreditable  person,  and  you  ought  to  be  heartily 
ashamed  of  yourself,  Ruth  Tredgett ;  and  as  a 
clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England  I  feel  bound 
to  tell  you  that  —  that  your  life  has  been  —  has 
been  what  God  knows  it  couldn't  well  have  helped 
being  under  the  circumstances. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Ruth  Tredgett,  I  am  very,  very 
sorry  for  you.  If  you  are  willing  to  leave  this 
unhappy  course  of  life  I  will  provide  you  with  the 
means  of  earning  your  living  honestly. 

Ruth.  Honestly !  Why,  lady,  I'm  too  fur  gone 
for  that ! 

Mrs.  V.  B.  I  hope  not.  I  have  assisted  many, 
very  many  such  women  as  yourself,  and  I  have 
seldom  found  my  efforts  wasted. 

Ruth.  But  you  —  a  lady,  high-born,  high-bred, 
beautiful,  rich,  good  —  (In  amazement^) 

Mrs.  V,B.  Hush.  (Rises.)  No  matter  what  I  am. 
( With  emotion.)  Who  shall  say  what  the  very  best 
of  us  might  not  have  been  but  for  the  accident  of 
education  and  good  example  ?  Tell  me,  Ruth 
Tredgett,  will  you  accept  my  offer  ? 

Ruth  (kneels  at  her  feet  and  looks  iip  into  her 
face).  I  will ! 


CHARITY.  157 


ACT    II. 

SCENE  :  same  as  in  Act  I. 
Enter  MR.  SMAILEY  and  SERVANT. 

Mr.  S.  (very  gently}.  Will  you  have  the  good 
ness  to  tell  Mrs.  Van  Brugh  that  Mr.  Smailey  is 
here  to  see  her,  by  appointment  ? 

Serv.  Mr.  Smailey,  sir  ?     Yes,  sir.     (Going?) 

Enter  MR.  FITZ  PARTINGTON. 

Fitz.  (stopping  SERVANT).     And  his  solicitor. 

Mr.  S.  (with  mild  sternness).  You  have  followed 
me  again,  sir  ? 

Fitz.  Followed  you  again,  sir ;  according  to 
contract. 

Mr.  S.  There  is  no  contract  between  us  that 
entitles  you  to  dog  my  footsteps  as  though  you 
were  hunting  down  a  thief. 

Fitz.  Hunting  down  a  thief  ?  Oh,  yes.  To 
enable  me  to  assist  you  in  blighting  the  character 
of  the  best  and  loveliest  woman  that  ever  shed  a 
light  upon  a  private  detective's  thorny  path,  I  am 
to  have  the  free  run  of  your  house  and  papers  ;  I 
am  to  accompany  you  wherever  you  go,  and  you 
are  to  introduce  me  everywhere  as  your  solicitor. 

Mr.  S.  Sir,  you  are  not  in  the  least  like  a  solici 
tor.  You  are  a  ridiculously  dressed  person.  You 
are  like  nothing  in  the  world  but  what  you  are  —  a 
14 


158  CHARITY. 


private  detective.  I  desire  to  press  hardly  on  no 
fellow-creature,  but  you  are  a  spy!  that  base  and 
utterably  abject  thing  —  a  spy  ! 

Fits.  Mr.  Smailey,  when  you  complain  that  you 
find  my  society  irksome,  you  have  my  profoundest 
sympathy ;  I  find  it  so  myself.  When  you  revile 
my  profession,  my  sentiments  are  entirely  in  accord, 
for  I  have  the  very  poorest  opinion  of  it.  But 
when  you  imply  that  I  don't  look  the  character  I 
undertake  to  represent,  why  then,  sir,  you  touch  the 
private  detective  on  the  most  sensitive  part  of  his 
moral  anatomy.  I'm  not  a  blameless  character,  but 
if  I  undertook  to  personate  the  Archbishop  of  Can 
terbury  I  believe  I  should  look  the  part,  and  my 
conversation  would  be  found  to  be  in  keeping  with 
the  character. 

Mr.  5.  Pray,  silence ;  oh,  pray,  pray,  silence. 
You  shock  me  inexpressibly.  It  is  most  painful  to 
me  to  have  to  resort  to  your  assistance.  My  son, 
my  dear  son,  has  engaged  himself  to  marry  Mrs. 
Van  Brugh's  daughter.  I  have  lately  had  reason  to 
believe  that  there  is  something  discreditable  in  Mrs. 
Van  Brugh's  marriage  relations,  though  I  do  not 
know  its  precise  nature.  You  tell  me  that  you 
have  a  certain  clew  to  this  flaw,  though  you  decline 
to  tell  me  what  it  is  until  your  proofs  are  matured. 
Well,  sir,  the  Smailey s  are  a  very  old  and  very 
famous  family.  Caius  Smaileius  came  over  with 
Julius  Caesar ;  his  descendants  have  borne  an 
untarnished  scutcneon  for  eighteen  hundred  years. 


CHARITY.  159 


In  its  interest  I  am  bound  to  employ  you,  and  upon 
your  own  most  exacting  terms,  though  I  can  not 
think  of  your  contemptible  calling  without  a  feel 
ing  of  the  most  profound  abhorrence. 

Fits.  Sir,  I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  it. 

Mr.  5.  You  are  a  professional  impostor  ;  a  hired 
lie. 

Fits.  It  is  too  true.  I  not  only  lie  myself,  but  I 
am  the  cause  of  lying  in  others. 

Mr.  5.  For  the  lies  that  have  to  be  told  in 
accounting  for  you  I  hold  you  entirely  responsible. 
I  wish  that  to  be  understood.  I  wash  my  hands  of 
them  altogether,  and,  when  I  think  of  the  deep, 
deliberate,  and  utterly  indefensible  falsehoods  that 
I  have  had  to  utter  on  your  behalf,  I  tremble  for 
your  future  —  I  tremble  for  your  future. 

Fitz.  Unselfish  man. 

Mr.  5.  As  for  the  preposterous  terms  you  have 
dictated  — 

Fitz.  Terms !  I  have  insured  to  myself  the  un 
broken  enjoyment  of  your  desirable  society  for  six 
weeks,  and  believe  me,  when  I  say  that  if  I  had 
been  acquainted  with  the  inexpressible  charms  of 
the  most  fascinating  woman  that  ever  shed  a  light 
upon  the  private  detective's  thorny  path,  I  wouldn't 
have  undertaken  the  job,  no,  not  even  for  a  lifetime 
of  your  society  !  . 

Enter  MRS.  VAN  BRUGH. 
Mrs.  V.  B.  Good  morning,  Mr.   Smailey.     I  am 


160  CHARITY. 


sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting.  (Aside)  That 
absurd  little  man  with  him  again.  (Aloud]  Good 
morning,  Mr. 

Fit 2.  Fitz  Partington. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Fitz  Partington,  of  course. 

Fitz.  (aside).  She  might  remember  my  name.  I 
can't  conceive  any  circumstances  under  which  I 
could  forget  hers  ! 

Mr.  S.  Mr.  Fitz  Partington  is  entirely  in  my  con 
fidence.  I  brought  him,  because  I  believed  that  his 
familiarity  with  legal  forms  might  assist  us  in  our 
interview.  You  can  speak  without  reserve  before 
Mr.  Fitz  Partington.  (Aside  to  FITZ.)  A  lie,  sir  ! 
Another  lie,  from  first  to  last ! 

Mrs.  V.  B.  I  suppose  the  facts  will  come  before 
Mr.  Fitz  Partington  when  they  are  decided  on. 
The  steps  by  which  they  are  arrived  at  will  only 
bore  him.  I'm  sure  Mr.  Partington  won't  be  angry 
with  me,  when  I  ask  him  to  amuse  himself  in  the 
next  room  until  preliminaries  are  arranged. 

Fitz.  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  I  have  made  it  a  part  of 
my  moral  code  to  step  without  hesitation  into  any 
apartment  you  may  think  fit  to  indicate.  \Exit. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Now,  Mr.  Smailey,  about  these  settle 
ments.  I  will  tell  you  at  once  what  I  propose  to  do. 
My  income  is,  as  you  know,  a  very  large  one  — 
much  larger  than  any  one  would  suppose  who 
judges  from  the  quietness  of  my  mode  of  life.  I 
am  an  odd  woman,  and  I  spend  my  money  in  my 
own  way.  I  have  very  many  claims  upon  it,  and, 


CHARITY.  161 


although  I  wish  to  deal  handsomely  with  my  dar 
ling  Eve,  I  must  not  disappoint  those  who  have 
counted  upon  me  for  some  years  past.  To  come  to 
the  point,  I  propose  to  settle  my  Buckinghamshire 
farm  upon  her,  on  the  usual  terms  of  a  marriage 
settlement.  I  don't  know  the  technical  expression 
—  but  on  the  usual  terms. 

Mr.  S.  The  Buckinghamshire  farm,  yes.  Thank 
you.  I  forget  whether  that  is  the  leasehold  or  the 
freehold  farm,  for  you  have  two. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  You  mustn't  ask  me.  Your  solicitor 
knows.  It's  worth  ,£500  a  year,  and  that,  I  sup 
pose,  is  the  main  point. 

Mr.  S.  Not  altogether  ;  the  difference  in  value 
may  be  prodigious.  Have  you  a  copy  of  the  will  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  No.     I  never  saw  the  will. 

Mr.  S.  Never  saw  the  will  ?  I  think  I  have  a 
copy  of  it  at  home  —  with  your  permission,  I  will 
go  and  fetch  it,  and  the  matter  can  be  decided  at 
once. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Do,  by  all  means.  I  only  know  that 
my  property  is  all  my  own,  and  that  I  can  do  what 
I  like  with  it;  and  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Smailey,  I 
avail  myself  of  the  privilege. 

Mr.  S.  You  do  indeed.  And  that  reminds  me, 
Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  that  I  am  anxious  to  speak  to  you 
on  another  topic  —  a  topic  of  a  singularly  painful 
character.  I  will  endeavor,  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  to 
approach  it  as  delicately  as  possible. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Indeed !  (Alarmed?)  You  rouse  my 
14* 


162  CHARITY. 


curiosity,  Mr.  Smailey.  Does  it  —  does  it  refer  in 
any  way  to  myself  ? 

•Mr.  S.  Directly  to  yourself. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (much  alarmed).  May  I  ask  in  what 
way  ? 

Mr.  S.  As  I  said  before,  it  is  a  most  difficult 
subject  to  approach,  and  I  would  willingly  spare 
you.  Give  me  a  moment  to  think  how  I  can  best 
put  it  to  you. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Pray  have  no  hesitation  in  telling  me 
what  it  is.  ( With  half-disguised  emotion?}  Does  it 
—  does  it  refer  in  any  way  to  my  —  to  my  past  life, 
for  instance  ?  (  With  affected  cheerfulness?} 

Mr.  S.  It  does  refer  to  incidents  in  your  past 
life.  To  many  incidents  in  general,  and  to  one 
incident  in  particular. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  For  Heaven's  sake,  sir,  be  explicit. 
Speak  out,  I  implore  you.  ( With  suppressed  agita 
tion?} 

Mr.  S.  You  seem  strangely  agitated,  Mrs.  Van 
Brugh. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  No,  no ;  I  am  ill  and  nervous  to-day. 
Your  manner  is  rather  alarming.  ( With  affected 
cheerfulness?}  You  know  I'm  a  very  bad  hand  at 
guessing  riddles,  Mr.  Smailey.  Come,  what  is  it  ? 
I  give  it  up.  (fie  hesitates.)  Why  have  you  any 
hesitation  in  telling  me  ? 

Mr.  S.  Because  it  involves  a  particularly  delicate 
moral  point.  (She  is  much  agitated?)  God  bless 
me,  you  seem  very  much  alarmed. 


CHARITY.  163 


Mrs.  V.  B.  (with  determination).  Mr.  Smailey, 
once  and  for  all,  I  insist  upon  knowing  what  it  is. 

Mr.  S.  Well,  then,  to  be  quite  plain  with  you,  it 
is  currently  reported  in  the  village  that  you  have 
taken  a  miserable  woman  from  the  streets  and 
established  her  in  the  character  of  a  respectable 
workwoman  within  a  hundred  yards  of  this  spot. 
(MRS.  VAN  BRUGH,  whose  agitation  and  alarm  have 
been  intense,  is  greatly  relieved.)  Moreover,  I  have 
been  informed  that  you  have,  for  some  years  past, 
been  in  the  habit  of  searching  out  women  of  bad 
character  who  profess  penitence,  with  the  view  of 
enabling  them  to  earn  their  living  in  the  society  of 
blameless  Christians. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  I  have. 

Mr.  S.  I  tell  you  at  once  that  I  am  loath  to 
believe  this  thing. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (with  indignant  surprise).  Why  are 
you  loath  to  believe  this  thing  ? 

Mr.  S.  Why  ?  (Rises.)  Because  its  audacity,  its 
want  of  principle,  and,  above  all,  its  unspeakable 
indelicacy,  shock  me  beyond  the  power  of  expres 
sion. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Mr.  Smailey,  is  it  possible  that  you 
are  speaking  deliberately  ?  Think  of  any  blameless 
woman  whom  you  love  and  honor,  and  who  is  loved 
and  honored  of  all.  Think  of  the  shivering  outcast 
whose  presence  is  contamination,  whose  touch  is 
horror  unspeakable,  whose  very  existence  is  an 
unholy  stain  on  God's  earth.  Woman  —  loved, 


1 64  CHARITY. 


honored,  courted  by  all.  Woman  —  shunned, 
loathed,  and  unutterably  despised,  but  still  — 
Woman.  I  do  not  plead  for  those  whose  advan 
tages  of  example  and  education  render  their  fall 
ten  thousand  times  more  culpable.  Let  others 
speak  for  such  as  they.  ( With  a  broken  voice]  — 
It  may  be  that  something  is  to  be  said,  even  for 
them.  I  plead  for  those  who  have  had  the  world 
against  them  from  the  first  —  who  with  blunted 
weapons  and  untutored  hands  have  fought  society 
single-handed,  and  fallen  in  the  unequal  fight.  God 
help  them ! 

Mr.  S.  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  I  have  no  desire  to 
press  hardly  on  any  fellow-creature,  but  society, 
the  grand  arbiter  in  these  matters,  has  decided 
that  a  woman  who  has  once  forfeited  her  moral 
position  shall  never  regain  it. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Even  though  her  repentance  be  sin 
cere  and  beyond  doubt  ? 

Mr.  S.  Even  so. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Even  though  she  fell  unprotected, 
unadvised,  perishing  with  want  and  chilled  with 
despair  ? 

Mr.  S,  Even  so.  For  such  a  woman  there  is  no 
excuse  —  for  such  a  woman  there  is  no  pardon. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  You  mean  no  pardon  on  earth  ? 

Mr.  S.  Of  course  I  mean  no  pardon  on  earth. 
What  can  I  have  to  do.  with  pardon  elsewhere  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Nothing.  Mr.  Smailey,  when  you 
have  procured  the  will,  I  shall  be  ready  to  see  you  ; 


CHARITY.  165 


but  before  you  go  let  me  tell  you  that  I  am  inex 
pressibly  shocked  and  pained  at  the  terrible  theory 
you  have  advanced.  (He  endeavors  to  speak)  Oh, 
understand  me,  I  do  not  charge  you  with  excep 
tional  heartlessness.  You  represent  the 'opinions 
of  society,  and  society  is  fortunate  in  its  mouth 
piece.  Heaven  teaches  that  there  is  a  pardon  for 
every  penitent.  Earth  teaches  that  there  is  one 
sin  for  which  there  is  no  pardon  —  when  the  sinner 
is  a  woman ! 

(RuTH  has  entered.  She  is  quietly  and  decently 
dressed,  and  carries  a  parcel  of  needlework 
in  her  hand.) 

Mr.  S.  (aside).  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  pray  be  quiet ; 
we  are  observed. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  By  the  subject  of  our  conversation. 

[Exit  MRS.  VAN  BRUGH. 

Ruth.  I  beg  pardon  —  I  thought  the  lady  was 
alone.  (Going.) 

Mr.  S.  Stop,  woman.  (Ske  turns  and  advances?) 
Don't  —  don't  approach  me  —  we  have  nothing  in 
common.  Listen  at  a  distance.  Mrs.  Van  Brugh 
has  thought  proper  to  place  you  on  a  pedestal  that 
levels  you,  socially,  with  respectable  Christians.  In 
so  doing,  I  consider  that  she  has  insulted  respect 
able  Christians.  She  thinks  proper  to  surfer  you 
to  enter  my  presence.  In  so  doing  I  consider  that 
she  has  insulted  me.  I  desire  you  to  understand 
that  when  a  woman  of  your  stamp  enters  the 
presence  of  a  Christian  gentleman,  she  — 


166  CHARITY. 


Ruth  (who  has  been  looking  at  him  in  wonder 
during  this  speech).  S  m  alley  !  That's  never  you! 
(MR.  S.  falls  back  in  his  chair^) 

Ruth.  Ay,  Smailey,  it's  Ruth  Tredgett. 

Mr.  S.  (very  confused}.  I  did  not  know  whom  I 
was  speaking  to. 

Ruth.  But  you  knowed  what  you  was  speakin' 
to,  Jonas  Smailey.  Go  on.  I'm  kinder  curous  to 
hear  what  you've  got  to  say  about  a  woman  o'  my 
stamp.  I'm  kinder  curous  to  hear  wot  Jonas 
Smailey's  got  to  say  about  his  own  work. 

Mr.  S.  We  meet  in  a  strange  way  after  so  many 
years. 

Ruth.  Yes  ;  we  do  meet  in  a  strange  way.  Seems 
to  me  it's  suthin'  of  a  topsy-turvy  way.  But  it's  a 
topsy-turvy  world,  ain't  it  ? 

Mr.  S.  (recovering  himself,  with  bland  dignity}. 
I  have  no  desire  to  press  hardly  on  any  fellow-crea 
ture — 

Ruth  (quietly).  Come,  that's  kind,  anyhow. 

Mr.  S.  Perhaps,  after  all,  you  were  not  entirely 
to  blame. 

Ruth.  Well,  p'raps  not. 

Mr.  S.  Perhaps  I  myself  was  not  altogether 
without  reproach  in  the  matter.  But  in  my  case 
allowance  should,  in  common  charity,  be  made  for 
follies  that  arise  from  extreme  youth  and  —  and  in 
experience.  I  was  barely  forty  then. 

Ruth.  And  I. was  just  sixteen.  Well,  I  forgive 
you,  along  o'  your  youth,  as  I  hope  to  be  forgiven 
along  o'  my  childhood. 


CHARITY.  167 


Mr.  S.  (rises).  The  tone  you  adopt  is  in  the 
worst  possible  taste.  The  misguided  lady  who  has 
taken  upon  herself,  most  wickedly,  to  foist  you 
upon  society,  has  committed  a  fraud,  which  — 

Ruth.  Stop  there,  Smailey!  You're  getting  on 
dangerous  ground.  Best  leave  that  lady  alone. 
She's  a  bit  chipped  off  heaven  —  she's  good  right 
through.  She's  —  she's  —  I'm  slow  at  findin' 
words  that  mean  goodness.  My  words  run  mostly 
the  other  way,  wus  luck.  If  'I  had  to  tell  o'  you, 
Smailey,  they'd  come  handy  and  strong.  I  can't 
find  words  that  mean  her  ! 

Mr.  S.  I  have  no  wish  to  be  hard  on  you,  but  it 
is  a  fraud,  and  — 

Ruth.  Fraud  ?  Fraud's  a  bad  word  to  come 
from  you,  Smailey.  I'd  ha'  thought  you'd  ha'  fought 
shy  o'  that  word,  for  the  rest  o'  your  days. 

Mr.  S.  (taken  aback}.  I  don't  know  what  you 
refer  to. 

Ruth.  I'm  referrin'  to  Martha  Vane  of  Mel 
bourne.  What,  yer  recklect  Martha  Vane,  do  yer  ? 

Mr.  S.  Martha  Vane !  Yes,  I  remember  Vane. 
Pooh !  There  is  nothing  to  connect  me  with  that 
matter. 

Ruth.  Nothing  ?  I've  writin'  of  yours  which  is 
fourteen  year,  if  it's  a  day. 

Mr.  S.  And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  would 
be  guilty  of  such  inhumanity  —  such  devilish  inhu 
manity  (I  use  the  word  "xievilish "  in  its  religious 
sense)  as  to  bring  up  an  act  of  youthful  folly  — 


1 68  CHARITY. 


guilt  if  you  will  —  against  me  now  that  I  have 
achieved  wealth,  reputation,  and  social  position  ? 

Ruth.  No,  you're  safe,  Smailey.  Bring  it  up 
agin  yer  now  ?  Why,  you  may  have  repented,  who 
knows  ?  You  was  a  bad  lot,  sure  enough,  but  that's 
twenty  years  agone,  and  you  may  ha'  repented. 

Mr.  S.  I  have  ;  I'm  an  altered  person  —  I  —  I 
—  will  make  it  well  worth  your  while  to  give  me 
up  that  writing  you  refer  to.  I  will  pay  you  very 
handsomely  for  it. 

Ruth.  Pay  !  no  ;  I  ain't  on  that  lay.  I'm  square 
now.  I'm  a  'spectable  woman.  I  only  takes 
money  wot  I  earns.  It  comes  slow,  but  it  comes 
comfortable. 

Mr.  S.  Your  sentiments  do  you  credit.  I  con 
fess  I  did  not  look  for  such  delicacy  of  feeling  in 
you ;  it  exalts  one's  idea  of  human  nature.  I  am 
thankful  for  any  thing  that  exalts  one's  idea  of 
human  nature.  Thank  you,  Tredgett.  Give  me 
these  papers. 

Ruth.  No  ;  I'm  'spectable,  but  I  ain't  a  fool.  I'll 
keep  'em,  case  I  want  'em. 

Mr.  S.  As  you  please.  Remember,  Tredgett,  I 
am  a  person  of  influence  here,  and  a  county 
magistrate  — 

Ruth.  What,  d'you  sit  at  quarter  sessions  ? 

Mr.  S.  Certainly. 

Ruth.  And  sentence  poor  prigs  ? 

Mr.  S.  Yes.     Why  do  you  ask  ? 

Ruth.  Nothing  ;  go  on  —  it's  all  topsy-turvy ! 


CHARITY.  169 


Mr.  S.  I  shall  be  happy  if  I  can  serve  you  in 
any  way.  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  hear  that  you 
are  doing  well,  and  I  feel  certain  that  the  admirable 
lady  who  has  so  kindly  taken  you  in  hand  will  have 
no  reason  to  regret  her  charity.  It  is  easy  to  fall, 
and  hard  to  rise  again — Heaven  bless  those  who 
extend  a  helping  hand.  I  am  very  glad  indeed 
that  we  have  met.  I've  no  wish  to  press  hardly  on 
any  fellow-creature.  [Exit. 

Ruth.  Jonas  Smailey !  Smailey  here  !  Things 
come  about  queerly.  I  seed  him  last  at  t'other  end 
o'  the  world,  and  to  meet  him  here  !  Who's  that  ? 
(FiTZ  PARTINGTON  has  entered  unobserved  on  tip 
toe,  and  tapped  her  on  the  shoulder?) 

Fitz.  Come  here.  (Taking  out  note-book.}  Your 
name's  Ruth  Tredgett  ? 

Ruth  (surprised).  Ay. 

Fits.  What  are  you  ? 

Ruth.  A 'spectable  woman.     Wot  arejwuf? 

Fitz.  A  detective. 

Ruth  (falling  back  horrified}.  Wot's  it  for? 

'Fitz.  Nothing.  You  ain't  wanted,  but  your 
address  is. 

Ruth.  I'm  living  at  Barker's  in  the  village. 

Fitz.  Present  occupation  ? 

Ruth.  Needlewoman. 

Fitz.  Late  occupation  ? 

Ruth.  Tramp.     There's  nothin'  agin  me  ? 

Fitz.  Nothing  against  you,  every  thing  for  you  ; 
even  this  half-crown. 


170  CHARITY. 


Ruth.  I  don't  like  p'leece  money.  I  never  took 
none  yet,  I  ain't  a  goin'  to  begin  now.  I  wish  yer 
good  day.  I  don't  like  p'leece  money.  \Exit. 

Fits.  I'm  not  a  policeman,  I'm  a  private  detec 
tive  ;  but  we  won't  split  hairs.  (Pockets  coin.)  I 
thought  Smailey  was  my  man,  now  I'm  sure  of  it. 
Ha  !  ha  !  Now,  Smailey  has  a  game.  The  ques 
tion  is,  what  is  it  ?  He  says  it's  his  scutcheon,  but 
that  is  Walker,  because  his  father  was  a  wig-maker. 
However,  it's  quite  clear  that,  whatever  his  game 
may  be,  it  is  my  duty  to  put  that  inestimable 
woman  on  her  guard. 

Enter  MRS.  VAN  BRUGH. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Has  not  Mr.  Smailey  returned  ? 

Fitz.  No,  ma'am,  he  has  not.  (He  shows  traces 
of  emotion?) 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Mr.  Fitz  Partington,  is  any  thing  the 
matter  ? 

Fitz.  Ma'am,  you  have  come  upon  me  in  a 
moment  of  professional  conscientiousness.  Avail 
yourself  of  it,  for  such  moments  are  rare  and 
fleeting.  Beware  of  Smailey. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  What  in  the  world  do  you  mean  ? 

Fitz.  I  mean  that  he  is  endeavoring  to  prove 
that  —  that  you  were  not  legally  married  to  Captain 
Van  Brugh. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (intensely  agitated}.  Mr.  Fitz  Par 
tington,  you  can  not  be  aware  of  the  full  import  of 
your  words.  What  can  be  Mr.  Smailey's  motive 
for  making  these  preposterous  inquiries  ? 


CHARITY.  171 


Fitz.  That's  just  what  I  want  to  get  at.  In  a 
general  way  it's  sure  to  be  something  dirty.  Per 
haps  he  thinks  that  the  property  you  inherit  from 
Captain  Van  Brugh  isn't  legally  yours,  and, 
therefore,  can't  be  settled  by  you  on  your  daughter. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  But  I  inherited  very  little  indeed 
from  Captain  Van  Brugh.  The  bulk  of  my 
property  was  left  me  by  my  godfather. 

Fitz.  Then  I'm  wrong.  But  does  Smailey  know 
this  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Know  it !  Why,  of  course  he  knows 
it.  He's  my  godfather's  nephew,  and  next-of-kin. 

Fitz.  What !  His  next-of-kin  ?  Next-of-kin  is  a 
fruitful  expression.  I  see  a  whole  plantation  of 
motives  cropping  out  of  "  next-of-kin."  Have  you 
a  copy  of  the  will  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  No.  But  Mr.  Smailey  has  —  indeed 
he  has  gone  to  fetch  it. 

Fitz.  Can  you  tell  me  the  terms  of  the  legacy  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  No,  not  precisely.  I  have  never 
seen  the  will.  My  solicitor  has  told  me  its  purport 
in  general  terms. 

Fitz.  Are  you  referred  to  in  that  will  by  your 
married  or  maiden  name  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Oh,  by  my  maiden  name. 

Fitz.  You  are  sure  of  that  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Quite  sure.  At  least,  I  feel  quite 
sure.  I  can't  be  absolutely  certain,  but  —  oh,  yes  ; 
I  am  sure  of  it. 

Fitz.  What  was  the  date  of  the  will  ? 


172  CHARITY. 


Mrs.  V.B.   1856. 

Fitz.  What  was  the  year  of  your  marriage  ? 

Mrs.   V.  B.   (after  a  pause).   1856. 

Fitz.  My  dear  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  this  is  most 
important.  The  news  of  your  marriage  might  or 
might  not  have  reached  the  testator  in  Australia. 
If  there  is  any  flaw  in  your  marriage,  and  if  you 
are  described  in  that  will  as  Captain  Van  Brugh' s 
wife,  every  penny  you  possess  will  revert  to 
Smailey.  Now,  Smailey  is  a  scoundrel. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Mr.  Fitz  Partington,  pray  explain 
yourself. 

Fitz.  In  the  full  conviction  that  what  I  am  .going 
to  say  will  be  treated  as  confidential,  I  will  explain 
myself.  I'm  after  Smailey.  Smailey  will  soon  be 
wanted. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  This  is  scarcely  an  explanation. 

Fitz.  Scarcely  an  explanation.  Twenty  years 
ago,  when  in  Australia,  Smailey  forged  a  burial- 
certificate  to  get  some  trust-funds  into  his  posses 
sion.  The  job  was  given  to  our  house  to  investi 
gate,  only  six  weeks  ago.  Two  days  after,  who 
should  come  to  us  for  a  detective  to  inquire  into 
your  affairs  but  Smailey,  so  we  put  the  two  jobs 
together,  and  I'm  doing  'em  both. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  But  how  is  it  that  a  gentleman  in 
your  profession  — 

Fitz.  A  gentleman  !  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  for  rea 
sons  that  will  go  down  with  me  to  the  tomb,  I  am 
humbly  and  hopelessly  anxious  to  stand  high  in 


CHARITY.  173 


your  good  opinion.  Appreciate  my  disinterested 
ness,  when  I  voluntarily  tell  you  that  which  will 
blight  me  in  your  estimation  for  ever.  You  think 
I'm  an  eminent  solicitor.  I  ain't  ;  I'm  the 
insignificant  minion  of  a  Private  Inquiry  Office. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  But  you  were  introduced  to  me  as  a 
solicitor. 

Fitz.  It  is  a  tantalizing  feature  of  my  contempti 
ble  calling,  that  I  am  continually  being  introduced 
as  somebody  I  should  particularly  like  to  be.  In 
the  course  of  the  last  twelve  months,  I've  been 
a  Spanish  Hidalgo,  a  Colonel  of  Hussars,  an 
Ashantee  Nobleman,  and  a  Bishop  of  the  Greek 
Church.  What  was  the  date  of  your  marriage  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Some  time  in  February,  '56  (with 
hesitation}. 

Fitz.  Day? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  The  —  the  soth. 

Fitz.  The  3Oth  ?  Try  again.  Never  more  than 
twenty-nine  days  in  February  —  seldom  that. 

Mrs.    V.  B.  I  forget  the  exact  date. 

Fitz.  Where  were  you  married,  and  by  whom  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  By  —  by  (after  some  hesitation]  —  Sir, 
by  your  own  admission  you  are  a  mere  spy.  How 
am  I  to  know  that  you  are  not  asking  these 
questions  with  a  view  to  using  them  against  me  ? 

Fitz.  (much  hurt).  Ma'am,  may  you  never  know 
the  depth  of  the  wound  you  have  inflicted.  It  will 
canker,  ma'am,  but  don't  be  alarmed,  it  shall  not 
inconvenience  you,  for  I  will  remove  it  from  your 


174  CHARITY. 


sight.  When  we  meet  again,  you  will  find  me  in 
the  assumed  character  of  a  person  who  has  not  had 
his  best  feelings  harrowed  up  for  a  considerable 
time.  It  will  be  a  difficult  assumption,  ma'am,  but 
I  will  do  my  best  to  sustain  the  fiction.  [Exit. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  At  last !  at  last  my  punishment  is  at 
hand.  And  Eve  —  great  heavens,  what  will  be 
come  of  her?  Eve  —  who  loves  and  honors  me  — 
Eve,  my  child  !  I  mustn't  think  of  that.  It  will 
madden  me.  I  shall  want  all  my  head  for  what  is 
to  come !  If  news  of  this  —  marriage  of  mine 
(with  a  bitter  latigh)  had  reached  my  godfather,  he 
would  have  described  me  in  his  will  as  Captain 
Van  Brugh' s  wife,  and  then  I  am  lost,  and  Eve  is 
lost.  Oh,  why  don't  that  man  come.  This  sus 
pense  is  terrible.  At  last !  He's  here  ! 

Enter  EVE  and  FRED  with  DR.  ATHELNEY. 

Eve.  Mr.  Smailey  has  returned  with  the  will. 
Frederick  has  been  explaining  to  me  the  difference 
between  freehold  and  leasehold,  and  you  don't 
know  how  anxious  I  am  to  know  which  it  is. 

Fred.  Eve,  Eve,  this  is  very  mercenary. 

Enter  SMAILEY. 

Mr.  S.  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  I  am  most  happy  to  tell 
you  that  it  is  every  thing  that  could  be  wished.  My 
dear  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  the  Buckinghamshire  farm  is 
freehold.  Here  is  the  clause  which  refers  to  it : 
(Reads  very  deliberately^)  After  giving  you  West- 


CHARITY.  175 


land  Park,  the  Blackfriars  estate,  and  the  two 
reversions,  the  testator  goes  on  to  say,  "  And  I  fur- 
"  ther  will  and  bequeathe  all  that  messuage  known 
"  as  Goldacre  Farm,  together  with  all  out-houses, 
"ways,  watercourses,  trees,  commonable  rights, 
"  easements  and  appurtenances,  and  all  the  estate 
"  and  rights  of  the  said  Richard  Goldacre  in  and  to 
"  the  same,  unto  and  to  the  use  of  the  said  Catherine 
"  Ellen,  wife  of  Richard  Van  Brugh,  Esq.,  a  cap- 
"  tain  in  the  Royal  Navy,  her  heirs  and  assigns 
"forever." 

(MRS.  VAN  BRUGH  falls  senseless  into  a  chair, 
her  daughter  bending  over  her.) 


ACT     III. 

SCENE  :  Morning  room  in  SMAILEY'S  house.    Door 
at  back,  giving  on  to  a  pretty  garden. 

FREDERICK  discovered  sealing  a  letter. 

Fred.  "  Your  eternally  attached  Frederick."  If 
there  was  any  flaw  in  Mrs.  Van  Brugh's  marriage, 
as  my  father  seems  to  suspect  —  and  his  suspicions 
are  corroborated  by  her  astonishing  behavior  on 
his  reading  her  godfather's  will  —  then  Mrs.  Van 
Brugh  is  penniless — and  Eve  is  penniless  too. 
Poor  little  lady.  I'm  afraid  I  shall  have  to  cry  off. 
I'm  sorry  for  the  poor  child,  because  I'm  sure  she 
is  fond  of  me.  I'm  sorry  for  myself,  because  I'm 


176  CHARITY. 


sure  I'm  fond  of  her.  But  when  a  man  proposes 
to  marry,  he  must  not  allow  himself  to  be  misled  by 
his  affections.  As  far  as  Eve  is  concerned  I  see 
no  difficulty.  She  is  a  tender-hearted  and  sensi 
tive  little  thing,  heaven  bless  her,  and  can  be  easily 
shaken  off.  But  my  poor  old  father ;  how  indig 
nant  he  will  be  if  I  dare  to  suggest  what  he  would 
consider  a  dishonorable  course !  Why,  if  he 
thought  me  capable  of  breaking  a  solemn  engage 
ment  for  a  mercenary  motive,  he'd  disown  me ! 
No,  I  must  rest  my  excuse  on  a  surer  ground.  I 
must  touch  his  sense  of  family  pride.  I  must  re 
mind  him  of  the  blight  that  would  fall  on  our  race, 
if  I  intermarried  with  a  tainted  family.  A  really 
good  man  does  a  deal  of  harm  in  the  world.  One 
has  to  stoop  to  so  much  dirty  dissimulation  before 
one  can  meet  him  on  equal  terms. 


Enter  MR.  SMAILEY. 

Mr.  S.  j  Frederick,  I  want  to  speak  seriously  — 

Fred.     )  Father,  I  want  to  speak  seriously 

Mr.  S.  Eh  ? 

Fred.  I  beg  your  pardon. 

Mr.  S.  I  was  about  to  say  that  I  want  to  speak 
to  you  on  a  most  serious  and  important  matter. 

Fred.  Dear  me,  that's  very  odd  !  Do  you  know 
I  was  about  to  say  the  very  same  thing !  I  am 
most  anxious  to  speak  to  you  on  a  most  serious 
and  most  important  matter.  Excuse  me  for  one 
moment,  while  I  give  this  note  to  Robins. 


CHARITY.  177 


Mr.  S.  Whom  are  you  writing  to  ? 

Fred.  To  my  darling,  of  course  ?  {Exit. 

Mr.  S.  To  his  darling !  Poor  lad  !  He's  a  noble 
fellow  !  No  mercenary  thought  in  connection  with 
the  girl  has  ever  entered  his  head  !  But  he  must 
never  marry  her.  Every  thing  points  to  the  fact 
that  Mrs.  Van  Brugh's  marriage  was  illegal,  and, 
if  so,  her  daughter  is  portionless.  Thank  Heaven ! 
his  sense  of  moral  rectitude  is  so  high  that  when 
he  knows  that  her  mother's  conduct  is  open  to 
suspicion  he  may  feel  bound  to  dissociate  himself 
from  her.  Ah,  it  is  a  pleasant  and  a  goodly  thing 
when  a  parent  finds  that  the  strict  principles  he 
has  instilled  into  his  offspring  are  bearing  golden 
fruit  on  which  they  both  may  feed  ! 

Enter  FREDERICK. 

Mr.  S.  (aside}.  )  How  shall  I  break  it  to  him  ? 

Fred,  (aside).    )  How  shall  I  begin? 

Fred.  Now  I'm  at  your  disposal. 

Mr.  S.  Frederick,  my  dear  lad,  this  life  of  ours  is 
made  up  of  hopes  frustrated,  and  cherished  schemes 
brought  to  nothing. 

Fred.  Very  true.  A  man  who  places  himself 
under  the  sweet  dominion  of  his  conscience,  must 
not  count  on  the  fulfillment  of  even  his  most  inno 
cent  intentions. 

Mr.  S.  Unforeseen  circumstances  occasionally 
arise  that  render  it  almost  criminal  to  carry  out  an 
otherwise  laudable  purpose. 


1 78  CHARITY. 


Fred.  For  instance  :  a  discovery  that  a  contem 
plated  act  would,  if  carried  out,  bring  dishonor  on 
a  long  line  of  ancestors. 

Mr.  S.  Or  give  an  implied  sanction  to  a  discred 
itable,  if  not  an  immoral,  relationship.  Events 
might  occur  which  would  justify  him  in  breaking 
the  most  solemn  pledge. 

Fred.  Justify  him !  I  can  conceive  a  state  of 
things  under  which  he  would  be  morally  bound  to 
cast  his  most  sacred  obligations  to  the  wind. 

Mr.  S.  My  dear  boy  ! 

Fred.  My  dear  father  !  ( They  shake  hands?) 

Mr.  S.  Now  Fred,  this  is  what  I  was  coming  to, 
my  boy.  We  are  the  last  descendants  of  a  very 
noble  family. 

Fred.  So  I  have  often  heard  you  say.  And  that 
reminds  me  to  mention  a  matter,  upon  which  I 
have  long  desired  to  talk  to  you 

Mr.  S.  (interrupting}.  I  am  free  to  admit  that  I 
am  proud  of  my  ancestry. 

Fred.  My  dear  father,  the  safe-keeping  of  their 
honor  is  my  dearest  aim.  And,  talking  of  my 
ancestors'  honor,  reminds  me 

Mr.  S.  (interrupting}.  If  Cains  Smaileius  heard 
that  one  of  his  race  was  about  to  marry,  for 
instance,  into  a  tainted  family,  I  believe  the 
doughty  old  Roman  would  turn  in  his  tumulus  ! 

Fred.  What  you  say  about  a  tainted  family  is  so 
true,  that  I  venture 

Mr.  S.  My  dear  Fred,  it's  no  use  beating  about 


CHARITY.  179 


the  bush.  The  girl  you  are  engaged  to  —  as  good 
a  girl  as  ever  lived,  is  (there  is  no  use  in  disguising 
it)  a  member  of  a  tainted  family.  (FRED  turns 
from  SMAILEY.)  It  is  therefore  my  duty  to  urge 
upon  you,  as  the  last  of  our  line,  the  propriety,  the 
necessity,  of  releasing  Eve  from  her  engagement. 
(FREDERICK  appears  hurt  and  indignant?}  I  know 
I  am  asking  much,  very  much,  of  you.  I  know 
how  tenderly  you  love  the  girl ;  but  a  flaw,  my  dear 
Fred,  and  you  a  Smailey  !  My  boy,  it  is  impossi 
ble. 

Fred,  (in  affected  indignation).  Am  I  to  under 
stand  that  you  require  me  to  surrender  my  darling 
Eve.  Never !  With  all  possible  respect  for  your 
authority  —  Never ! 

Mr.  S.  But,  Fred,  remember,  my  boy,  remember, 
her  mother  has  committed  a,  faux  pas  of  some  kind. 

Fred.  It  would  certainly  seem  so  ;  but  I  have 
given  my  word,  and  it  is  my  duty  to  keep  it. 

Mr.  S.  What  is  duty  to  the  living  compared  with 
duty  to  the  dead.  Think  what  your  ancestors  have 
done  for  you.  And  are  we  to  neglect  our  duty  to 
them,  because  they  can  do  no  more  for  us  ?  Oh  ! 
shame,  shame ! 

Fred,  (with  apparent  reluctance].  There  is  much 
truth  in  what  you  say,  still 

Mr.  S.  To  marry  into  such  a  family  as  hers,  now 
that  we  know  the  truth,  would  be,  as  it  were,  to 
countenance  her  guilt. 

Fred.  I  can  not  deny  it.     Nevertheless,  I 


i8o  CHARITY. 


Mr.  S.  Would  it  be  just  —  would  it  be  moral  to 
do  this  ? 

Fred.  No,  no ;  I  see  it  now. 

Mr.  S.  Show  yourself  to  be  a  man  of  moral  cour 
age.  As  for  what  the  world  will  say,  do  the  right 
thing,  my  boy,  and  let  them  say  what  they  please. 

Fred,  (after  a  pause}.  Father,  you  are  right.  As 
a  moral  man  I  have  no  alternative  but  to  comply 
with  your  wish.  At  any  cost  it  must  be  done  — 
at  any  cost  it  shall  be  done ! 

Mr.  S.  That's  right,  my  dear,  dear  boy ;  and  you 
shall  find  that  you  have  lost  little  by  your  determi 
nation.  And  now  that  that's  settled,  let  us  enter 
into  your  affairs.  What  was  it  that  you  wanted  to 
speak  to  me  so  seriously  about  just  now? 

Fred.  I  ?     Oh,  dear  no. 

Mr.  S.  But  surely,  you  said 

Fred.  Oh,  to  be  sure  !  I  —  oh,  it's  not  of  the 
least  consequence. 

Mr.  S.  Something  about  poor  little  Eve,  wasn't  it  ? 

Fred.  Yes  ;  about  poor  little  Eve.  Plow  little  do 
we  know  what  five  minutes  may  bring  forth  !  I  was 
actually  going  to  consult  you  about  fixing  a  day  for 
our  wedding.  ( Wiping  his  eyes.) 

Mr.  S.  My  poor  boy,  you  have  behaved  nobly. 
You  are  a  true  Smailey. 

Fred,  (taking  his  hand).  I  hope  it  is  not  presump 
tuous  in  me,  but  I  sometimes  think  I  am. 

Mr.  S.  I  have  wounded  you  deeply.  Let  me 
compensate  you  by  telling  you  a  more  pleasant 


CHARITY.  181 


piece  of  news.  I  have  discovered  Fitz  Parting- 
ton's  clew. 

Fred.  Indeed  !     I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  it. 

Mr.  S.  Yes.  Mrs.  Van  Brugh  told  me  on  Tues 
day  that  she  had  never  actually  seen  her  godfather's 
will.  So  I  felt  it  to  be  my  duty  to  make  an  excuse 
for  reading  aloud  that  part  of  the  will  in  which  she 
is  particularly  described.  I  did  so,  and  she  fainted. 
Now,  my  dear  Fred,  what  does  this  point  to  ? 

Fred.  I  should  say  bigamy. 

Mr.  5.  You  would  say  bigamy,  and  so  should  I. 
I  suggested  this  to  Fitz  Partington,  and  he  seemed 
amazed  at  my  penetration.  We  laid  our  heads  to 
gether,  and,  at  his  suggestion,  I  drew  up  this  adver 
tisement.  (Hands  MS.  advertisement,  which  he  has 
taken  from  table-drawer.) 

Fred,  (reads).  £$O  Reward.  This  sum  will  be 
paid  for  a  true  copy  of  the  burial  certificate  of  the 
first  wife  of  the  late  Captain  Van  Brugh,  R.N. 
She  is  known  to  have  died  at  Melbourne  within  the 
last  eight  years.  Are  you  sure  Fitz  Partington  is 
acting  straightforwardly  with  you  ? 

Mr.  S.  Why  should  he  do  otherwise  ? 

Fred.  £$o  is  a  large  sum. 

Mr.  S.  A  large  sum  ?  If  I  can  only  establish  the 
fact  that  the  first  Mrs.  Van  Brugh  died  within  the 
last  eight  years,  every  penny  of  this  so-called  Mrs. 
Van  Brugh's  income  —  .£8,000  a  year  at  least  — 
reverts  to  me. 

Fred.  Then,  dear  me 

16 


182  CHARITY. 


Mr.  S.  Eh  ? 

Fred.  Poor  Eve  will  lose  her  settlement ! 
Mr.   S.  True  ;    quite  true.      Dear  me,  I  never 
thought  of  that.     Poor  Eve  ! 
Fred.  Poor,  poor  Eve  ! 

Enter  RUTH. 

Ruth.  I've  brought  this  note  from  my  lady. 

Mr.  S.  Oh  !     There  may  be  an  answer.     Stay. 

Ruth,  (quietly).  Yes  ;  I'll  stay. 

Mr.  S.  {reads  note).  Oh !  Mrs.  Van  Brugh  writes 
to  say  that  she  wishes  to  see  me  this  afternoon  — 
alone.  (Sits  down  to  write.) 

Fred.  Alone  !  Oh,  then  —  then  perhaps  I'd  bet 
ter  withdraw.  ( With  affected  emotion?) 

Ruth.  Ay,  perhaps  you  better  had. 

(She  follows  him  with  her  eyes  as  he  goes  to  the 
door.  He  seems  uneasy.  Then  exit. ) 

Mr.  S.  There  is  the  answer.     (Finishing  note.} 

Ruth.  Smailey  ;  wot's  wrong  about  my  lady? 

Mr.  S.  Wrong? 

Ruth.  Ay,  there's  ruin  comin'  to  her,  and  she 
knows  it.  She's  been  queer-like  these  two  days. 
I've  come  upon  her  cryin'  odd  times,  and  she's  as 
white  as  death.  Wot  is  it,  Smailey  ? 

Mr.  S.  Probably  a  head-ache.     I'm  not  a  doctor. 

Ruth.  lam.  It's  no  head-ache  —  it's  heartache. 
It's  ruin. 

Mr.  S.  It  is  ruin ;  to  her  wealth,  and  her  good 
name. 


CHARITY.  183 


Ruth.  Her  good  name  ?  Why,  you  re  never  goin' 
to  meddle  wi'  that. 

Mr.  S.  You  are  deceived  in  your  mistress.  (Rises.) 
I  will  tell  you  what  she  has  been 

Rtith.  Stop!  I  won't  hear  it,  Smailey,  I  won't 
hear  it.  Let  bygones  go  by  :  no  odds  what  she  has 
been  ;  think  wot  she  is  ;  think  wot  yoiive  been. 
As  I've  dealt  fair  wi'  you,  deal  you  fair  wi'  her.  Take 
wot's  yourn,  but  don't  take  no  more. 

Mr.  S.  My  rights  and  her  good  name  are  bound 
up  together,  I  can  not  claim  the  one  without  destroy 
ing  the  other.  I  only  want  what  the  law  will  give 
me,  if  I  commence  proceedings. 

Ruth  (changing  her  tone).  If  you  commence  pro 
ceedings,  wot  the  law  will  give  you  is  fourteen 
year,  take  my  word  for  it.  I've  spoke  fair,  and  no 
good's  come  of  it,  so  I'll  speak  foul.  Look  here, 
Smailey,  you've  put  a  plot  afoot  to  ruin  my  lady. 
Now  my  lady's  got  a  dog,  Smailey,  and  that  dog 
won't  stand  no  plots.  Do  you  hear  that,  Smailey. 
Stir  hand  or  foot  to  harm  that  pure  and  spotless 
creature,  and  sure  as  my  lady's  dog  has  a  set  of 
fangs  she'll  fix  them  in  your  throat. 

Mr.  S.  This  is  hard.  This  is  very  hard.  Even 
Mrs.  Van  Brugh  would  herself  at  once  admit  the 
justice  of  my  claim. 

Ruth.  Well,  wait  till  she  does. 

Mr.  S.  (after  a  pause}.  There  is  a  good  deal  of 
sound  common  sense  in  what  you  say,  Tredgett. 
Still,  if  —  if  Mrs.  Van  Brugh  should  at  any  time 


184  CHARITY. 


make  a  statement  of  her  own  free  will,  you  will 
surely  allow  me  to  profit  by  it  ? 

£uth.  Wotever  my  lady  does  of  her  own  free 
will  jj^ an  gels'  doin',  and  is  right  accordin*. 

M^tf.  (aside).  Then  I  think  I  see  my  way. 
(Aloud.}  :"'<Well,  Ruth,  on  that  understanding  you 
have  my  promise. 

Ruth.  Promise  ?  Your  promise  ?  Smailey,  don't 
you  meddle  with  things  you  don't  understand. 
Promises  are  ticklish  goods  in  your  hands.  They're 
temptin'  things  to  break,  and  you  was  always  easy 
tempted.  No,  no  ;  don't  you  promise.  /'//  prom 
ise  this  time,  Smailey.  /'//  promise.  [Exit  RUTH. 

Mr.  S.  A  sin,  an  early  sin — a  sin  committed 
twenty  years  ago,  brought  up  against  me  now  that 
I  am  an  honest  man,  and  a  regular  church-goer ! 
I  am  absolutely  bound  hand  and  foot  by  it  —  and 
to  what  end  ?  For  the  protection  of  a  woman  who 
has  committed  Heaven  knows  what  offense  against 
morality.  If  this  crime  were  to  be  proved  against 
me,  what  on  earth  would  become  of  me?  For 
years  I  have  endeavored  to  atone  for  my  sin 
against  society  by  treating  wrong-doers  brought 
before  me  with  the  strictest  and  most  unflinching 
severity.  Would  Society  be  grateful  for  this  — 
Would  it  even  take  heed  of  it  ?  No ;  my  atone 
ment  would  go  for  nothing  —  absolutely  nothing. 
Ah !  this  is  a  merciless  world,  and  one  in  which 
penitence  is  taken  no  account  of.  But  have  a  care, 
Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  I'll  bide  my  time.  You  shall  yet 


CHARITY.  185 


see  that  a  sin  against  morality  is  not  to  be  wiped 
out  by  a  few  years  of  sentimental  self-denial ! 

Enter  EVE  and  FRED. 

Fred.  Father,  I  met  Mrs.  Van  Brugh  andJpy 
darling  on  their  way  here,  so  I  turned  back  with 
them. 

Mr.  S.  My  dear  Eve.  (Kisses  her.  Enter  MRS. 
VAN  BRUGH.)  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  I  am  very  pleased 
to  see  you.  Pray  sit  down.  You  look  pale  ;  I  am 
afraid  you  are  tired. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  No,  I  have  not  been  very  well  lately. 

Eve.  Mamma  wished  to  come  alone,  as  she  wants 
to  speak  to  you  on  business,  but  I  wouldn't  hear 
of  that,  as  she  is  really  very  far  from  well,  so  I've 
brought  her  to  you,  Mr.  Smailey ;  and  now  I'm 
going  to  take  a  turn  in  the  garden  with  Fred.  Dr. 
Athelney  is  waiting  for  us  in  the  arbor. 

Fred.  If  the  arbor  were  a  consecrated  arbor, 
and  I  had  a  license  in  my  pocket,  we  might  take,  a 
turn  —  in  the  garden  —  that  would  surprise  our 
dear  friends. 

Eve.  What,  without  a  wedding-dress  and  brides 
maids,  and  bouquets  and  presents,  and  a  breakfast  ? 
My  dear  Fred,  it  wouldn't  be  legal ! 

\Exeunt  EVE  and  FRED  into  the  garden. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (after  a  pause).  Mr.  Smailey,  I  come 
to  you  in  great  distress.  On  Tuesday  last,  a  cir 
cumstance  occurred,  no  matter  what  it  was,  that 
induced  me  to  believe  that  there  was  a  flaw  —  a 

1 6* 


i86  CHARITY. 


vital  flaw  —  in  my  title  to  all  I  possess.    Mr.  Smai- 
ley,  I  haven't  a  shilling  in  the  world. 

Mr.  S.  A  shilling!  My  very  dear  lady,  you 
haven't  a  penny. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  What !     Do  you  know  this  ? 

Mr.  S.  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  I  will  be  candid  with 
you.  The  Smaileys  are  a  very,  very  old  and  very 
famous  family.  No  suspicion  of  a  bar  sinister  has 
ever  shadowed  their  escutcheon.  My  son  is  be 
trothed  to  your  daughter,  and  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  you  are  not  entitled  to  the  name  you 
bear.  Therefore,  in  his  interests,  and  in  those  of 
his  slumbering  ancestors,  I  have  taken  steps  to 
ascertain  the  truth. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (much  agitated).  What  do  you  hope 
to  prove  ? 

Mr.  S.  That  when  you  went  through  the  form 
of  marriage  with  the  late  Captain  Van  Brugh  you 
knew  that  his  first  wife  was  still  alive. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (wildly}.  No,  no,  no !  Mr.  Smailey, 
it  is  bad  enough,  but  not  so  bad  as  that.  Oh,  Mr. 
Smailey,  dismiss  that  fearful  thought  from  your 
mind,  and  I  will  tell  you  the  truth  I  came  here  to 
tell.  It's  a  bitter,  bitter  truth,  but  not  so  bad  as 
you  would  make  it  out  to' be. 

Mr.  S.  What  is  the  truth  ?     (Sternly^ 

Mrs.  V.  B.  I  —  I  —  when  I  met  Captain  Van 
Brugh  —  I  was  very  young,  and  my  mother  was 
dead  —  and  — 

(Bursts  into  tears  and  sobs  wildly \  laying  her 
head  on  the  table?) 


CHARITY.  187 


Mr.  S.  What  is  the  truth  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Oh,  man,  man,  can't  you  read  it  in 
these  tears  ?  Is  there  not  shame  enough  in  my 
face,  that  you  want  it  in  shameful  words.  Read 
what  you  see  before  you,  and  as  you  are  a  man 
with  a  heart,  keep  my  secret ;  oh,  keep  my  un 
happy  secret ! 

Mr.  S.  What !  am  I  to  understand  that  you 
never  even  went  through  the  form  of  marriage 
with  Captain  Van  Brugh  ? 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (under  her  breath).  Never ! 

Mr.  S.  (after  a  pause].  I  decline  to  believe  you. 
I  had  hoped  that  it  was  barely  possible  you  were 
the  unconscious  dupe  of  a  reckless  scamp.  I  now 
believe  that  you  were  well  aware  of  the  crime  you 
were  committing,  and  you  take  this  step  to  avoid 
its  legal  consequences. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (with  forced  calmness).  Mr.  Smailey, 
I  have,  perhaps;  no  right  to  be  indignant  at  this 
insult ;  but  you  are  mistaken  —  utterly  mistaken. 
Have  you  no  pity,  no  sympathy  ?  See,  every  thing 
I  possess  is  legally  yours;  I  leave  your  presence 
penniless.  Commence  an  action  against  me,  and  I 
will  quietly  yield  up  every  thing  before  the  case 
comes  into  court ;  but,  if  you  love  your  son,  spare 
me  the  shame,  the  intolerable  shame,  of  a  public 
exposure ! 

Mr.  S.  I  will  spare  you  nothing ;  neither  will  I 
take  the  step  you  suggest,  nor  any  other  step  to 
dispossess  you.  In  this  matter  I  am  passive;  I 


1 88  CHARITY. 


leave  you  to  act  as  conscience  may  prompt  you. 
But  understand  that  I  will  be  a  party  to  no  con 
cealment,  no  subterfuge.  On  these  terms,  and  on 
no  other,  will  I  consent  to  take  this  property. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (wildly}.  What  am  I  to  do  ?  I  can 
not  keep  it,  and  I  have  no  one  to  advise  me ! 

Mr.  S.  /will  advise  you.  You  have  sinned,  and 
must  make  atonement.  There  are  witnesses  at 
hand,  let  them  hear  the  truth :  whatever  the  truth 
may  be,  let  them  hear  it. 

Mrs.  V.  B.    What  witnesses  ? 

Mr.  S.  Dr.  Athelney,  my  dear  son,  Ruth  Tred- 
gett,  and  your  daughter. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (wildly).  No,  no ;  not  before  Eve. 
You  can  not  mean  that  I  am  to  say  this  before  Eve. 
Think,  Mr.  Smailey,  what  you  are  asking  me  to  do. 
I  am  her  mother  ! 

Mr.  S.  I  desire  to  press  hardly  on  no  fellow- 
creature,  but  it  is  meet  that  she  should  know  the 
truth.  Indeed,  as  a  principle,  truth  can  not  be  too 
widely  known. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  But  she  knows  nothing  of  this  mis 
erable  matter.  She  believes,  as  others  believe,  that 
I  was  married  abroad  and  that  my  husband  died 
soon  after. 

Mr.  S.  A  mother  seeking  to  deceive  her  own 
child ! 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Take  every  penny  I  possess,  but  for 
Eve's  sake  spare  me  this  intolerable  shame.  I  will 
sign  any  deed  you  please  that  will  convey  my  prop- 


CHARITY.  189 


erty  to  you,  but  leave  me  the  love  and  honor  of 
my  darling  child. 

Mr.  S.  I  decline  to  place  myself  in  the  invid 
ious  position  of  one  who  takes  steps  to  dispossess 
a  helpless  lady  ;  I  also  decline  to  be  a  party  to  any 
deception.  If  you  refuse  to  make  the  public  ad 
mission  I  require,  you  may  keep  your  ill-gotten 
wealth. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Keep  it !  Why  I  am  here,  of  my 
own  free  will,  to  surrender  into  your  hands  my 
wealth,  and  with  it  my  good  name ! 

Mr.  5.  I  feel  it  to  be  my  duty  to  remind  you 
that  you  have  as  little  right  to  the  one  as  to  the 
other. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  What  shall  I  do  — What  shall  I  do? 
If  I  refuse  to  publish  my  sin,  this  man  will  make 
it  known  to  the  whole  world. 

Mr.  S.  No ;  there  you  wrong  me.  That  would 
be  an  unmanly  act  indeed,  Miss  Brandreth. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Miss  Brandreth ! 

Mr.  S.  That,  I  presume,  is  your  name.  Pardon 
me,  but  now  that  I  know  the  truth,  I  could  not 
conscientiously  call  you  Mrs.  Van  Brugh.  It 
would  be  a  lie.  For  the  future  I  shall  call  you 
Miss  Brandreth,  but  —  I  shall  systematically  with 
hold  my  reasons  for  so  doing. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Mr.  Smailey,  think  what  you  are  com 
pelling  me  to  do.  I  have  sinned,  and  for  many 
years  I  have  unceasingly  endeavored  to  atone  for 
that  sin.  Blessed  with  an  ample  fortune,  I  have 


i9o  CHARITY. 


devoted  four-fifths  of  it  to  the  rescue  of  the  un- 
happiest  among  unhappy  women.  In  my  search 
for  them  I  have  waded,  year  after  year,  through  the 
foulest  depths  of  misery  and  disgrace,  with  ears 
and  eyes  outraged  at  every  turn.  In  the  face  of 
galling  rebuke  and  insult  unspeakable,  in  the  face 
of  cold  ridicule  and  insolent  misconstruction,  I  have 
held  on  to  the  task  I  set  myself,  and  through  the 
mercy  of  heaven —  the  infinite  mercy  of  heaven  — 
I  have  succeeded.  I  have  no  desire  to  speak  of 
these  things,  and  to  no  other  man  would  I  utter 
them.  But  you  talk  to  me  of  atonement ;  and  have 
I  not  atoned  ?  Oh  !  have  I  not  atoned  ? 

Mr.  S.  See  how  the  deeds  and  words  of  these 
last  years  show  in  the  fierce  light  you  have  just 
thrown  upon  them.  You  have  lost  no  opportunity 
of  rebuking  my  hardness  of  heart  because  I  can  not 
pardon  an  act  of  immorality.  See  from  what  a 
foul  and  muddy  source  your  own  forgiveness  springs. 
You  have  taunted  me  with  my  severity  towards 
wrong-doers.  See  from  what  an  interested  motive 
your  own  leniency  arises.  You  have  publicly 
assailed  my  want  of  charity.  Had  I  the  control  of 
another  man's  income  my  charities  might  perhaps 
outvie  your  own.  In  one  word,  if  you  retain  your 
social  position,  you  are  morally  an  impostor.  If 
you  retain  my  property,  you  are  morally 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (interrupting  him).  Enough !  You 
have  spoken,  and  I  know  you  now.  I  can  see  through 
those  cold  hard  eyes  down  into  the  cold  hard  heart 


CHARITY.  191 


from  which  they  take  their  tone.  I  read  there  the 
stony  creed,  "  A  woman  who  has  once  fallen  shall 
never  rise  again."  So  let  it  be.  You  are  strong  — 
for  you  have  the  world  on  your  side.  I  am  weak 
—  for  I  am  alone.  If  I  am  to  die  this  moral  death, 
it  shall  be  by  my  own  hand.  They  shall  hear  the 
truth.  (EvE  and  FREDERICK  have  appeared  at  the 
door ;  she  turns  and  sees  them  ;  they  are  followed  by 
DR.  ATHELNEY  and  EDWARD.)  Come  here,  Eve  ; 
come  here,  Dr.  Athelney ;  all  of  you  come  here. 
(EvE  comes  forward  and  kneels  at  her  mother  s  feet.} 
Eve,  my  darling,  my  pet  —  Eve  dear,  kiss  me. 
Kiss  me  again  and  again  —  my  child,  my  child ! 
Kiss  me  now,  for  you  may  never  kiss  me  again. 
Dr.  Athelney,  you  love  me,  I  know.  Edward,  my 
dear  old  friend,  listen  while  I  tell  you  what  manner 
of  woman  you  have  loved 

Ruth  (rushing  forward}.  No,  no,  mistress,  you 
mustn't  say  it,  don't,  don't  speak  it ;  for  the  love  of 
mercy  don't  speak  it.  As  I'm  a  sinful  woman,  it'll 
be  worse  than  death  to  me. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  I  must  go  on  to  the  end.  Do  you 
know  on  what  kind  of  thing  you  have  lavished  the 
treasure  of  your  love  ?  You  have  lavished  it  on  a 
fallen  woman  —  an  unhappy  creature,  who  has  com 
mitted  that  one  sin  for  which  on  earth  there  is  no 
atonement — no  forgiveness.  You  think  of  me  as 
Captain  Brugh's  widow ;  God  forgive  me,  I  never 
was  his  wife ! 


192  CHARITY. 


('Ruin  recoils  from  her  with  an  exclamation  of 
horror.  EVE  falls  senseless  into  EDWARD'S 
arms.  SMAILEY  and  FREDERICK  watch  the 
group  from  a  corner  of  the  stage?) 


ACT    IV. 

SCENE  :  Library  at  DR.  ATHELNEY'S. 
MRS.  VAN  BRUGH  discovered  seated,  reading  letters. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  "  The  Rev.  Mr.  Twemlow  presents 
his  compliments  to  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  and  begs  to 
return  her  annual  subscription  of  fifty  guineas  to  the 
Fund  for  providing  Shelter  for  the  Homeless  Poor. 
He  does  not  feel  justified,  under  the  circumstances, 
in  accepting  any  aid  from  Mrs.  Van  Brugh  on  their 
behalf.  With  respect  to  the  living  to  which  Mrs. 
Van  Brugh  has  recently  presented  Mr.  Twemlow,  he 
desires  that  she  may  understand  that,  if  he  consents 
to  retain  it,  it  is  because  he  feels  that  it  affords  him 
a  more  extended  sphere  of  spiritual  usefulness  than 
the  curacy  he  has  hitherto  held."  (Opens  another 
letter^)  "  We,  the  aged  occupants  of  the  Locroft 
Almshouses,  are  humbly  pained  and  respectfully 
shocked  at  the  disclosures  that  have  recently  been 
made  with  reference  to  Miss  Brandreth's  relations 
with  the  late  Captain  Van  Brugh.  We  trust  that 
it  is  unnecessary  for  us  to  add  that,  if  it  were  not 
that  the  Almshouses  pass  at  once  from  Miss  Bran- 


CHARITY.  193 


dreth's  hands  into  those  of  an  upright  and  stainless 
Christian,  whom  it  is  an  honor  respectfully  to  know 
and  a  satisfaction  humbly  to  profit  by,  we  would 
not  have  consented  to  occupy  them  for  another 
day ;  we  would  rather  have  worked  for  our  living. 
Signed."  (Opens  another  letter.) 

"HONORED  MADAM, 

"  We  shall  feel  greatly  flattered  and  obliged  if 
you  will  kindly  afford  us  a  sitting  for  your  photo 
graph  at  your  earliest  convenience. 
"  We  are,  Honored  Madam, 
"  With  much  esteem, 

"  Most  respectfully  yours, 

"  SCUMLEY  &  RIPP." 

When  these  people  address  me,  I  am  degraded 
indeed !  My  name  a  word  of  reproach  in  every 
household  in  the  country ;  my  story  a  thing  to  be 
whispered  and  hinted  at,  but  not  to  be  openly  dis 
cussed,  by  reason  of  its  very  shame.  My  years  of 
atonement  held  to  be  mere  evidences  of  skillfully 
sustained  hypocrisy.  Myself  a  confessed  counter 
feit,  a  base  and  worthless  imposition,  a  living  fraud 
on  the  immaculate  beings  with  whom  I  dared  to 
surround  myself.  And  Ruth  —  Ruth,  to  whom  my 
heart  opened  —  even  Ruth  has  left  me.  Poor  blind, 
wayward  woman,  you  are  of  the  world,  worldly ; 
your  idol  is  shattered,  and  there  is  the  end.  So  let 
it  be  ;  it  is  meet  that  such  as  I  should  be  alone ! 
17 


i94  CHARITY. 


Enter  EVE,  who  has  overheard  the  last  few 
lines.  She  approaches  her  mother  quietly, 
and  places  her  arms  round  her  neck. 

Eve.  Mamma,  you  have  many  kind  friends  left 
to  you  ;  Dr.  Athelney,  who  has  given  you  a  home  ; 
Edward  and  myself. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  A  daughter's  love  comes  of  honor. 
Can  that  love  live  without  the  honor  that  gives  it 
sustenance  ? 

Eve.  Mamma,  I  am  very  young,  and  I  know  little 
of  the  world  and  its  ways.  Will  you  forgive  me  if 
I  speak  foolishly  ?  Dear  mamma,  I  think  my  love 
for  you  began  with  my  life.  It  was  born  with  me, 
and  came  of  no*  other  cause  than  that  you  are  my 
mother.  As  I  brought  it  with  me  into  the  world, 
so  I  believe  I  shall  take  it  with  me  out  of  the 
world.  Do  you  understand  me  ?  I  mean,  that  if  I 
had  no  other  reason  for  loving  than  that  you  are 
my  mother,  I  should  still  love  you,  for  I  am  your 
child. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  A  child  to  whom  I  have  given  a  life 
that  is  worse  than  death  ;  a  life  that  brings  with  it 
a  curse  that  will  be  flung  in  your  teeth  by  all  who 
know  you,  and  first  of  all,  and  above  all,  by  him 
who  was  to  have  married  you. 

Eve.  No,  no  ;  your  bitter  sorrow  has  made  you 
unjust.  Remember,  he  loves  me.  I  do  not  know 
why  he  loves  me,  but  whatever  he  saw  in  me  to 
love  is  there  still.  /  am  not  changed,  and  why 
should  he  change  ?  I  trust  his  heart  as  I  trust  my 
own. 


CHARITY.  195 


Mrs.  V.  B.  Eve,  I  know  the  world  too  well. 
That  man  will  visit  my  fault  upon  you.  He  will 
renounce  you  now,  my  poor  child,  and  the  world 
will  say  he  is  right. 

Eve.  I  will  believe  this  when  I  hear  it  from  his 
own  lips. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  You  will  hear  it  to-day.  It  is  part 
of  the  punishment  of  women  who  s-in  as  I  have 
sinned,  that  those  who  are  dearest  to  them  shall 
suffer  with  them.  See  how  I  am  punished.  I 
have  placed  a  mark  of  shame  on  you  whom  I 
love  beyond  all  on  earth.  I  have  inflicted  a  lasting 
injury  on  you  whom  I  would  have  died  to  serve.  I 
have  cursed  you  whom  I  would  have  blessed.  I  have 
degraded  you  whom  I  would  have  exalted.  Eve,  my 
darling  —  out  of  my  sin  has  come  your  love  for  me. 
I  have  no  claim  to  that  love.  I  have  cheated  you 
into  honoring  me ;  for  that  honor  comes  of  my  sin. 
I  do  not  ask  for  love  —  I  do  not  ask  for  honor. 
Humbled,  unworthy,  and  spirit-broken,  I  plead  to 
you  for  pardon  —  only  for  pardon.  (Kneels  to  Eve) 

Eve.  Pardon!  My  mother — rny  gentle-hearted 
mother.  There  is  no  thought  in  my  mind  but  of 
the  perfect  woman  of  the  past  eighteen  years.  The 
luster  of  those  years  fills  my  world.  I  can  see 
nothing  else ;  I  will  see  nothing  else.  As  you  have 
always  been  to  me,  so  shall  you  always  be  —  the 
type  of  gentle  charity,  tender  helpfulness,  brave, 
large-hearted  womanly  sympathy.  When  the  bright 
light  of  those  bygone  years  pales  in  my  eyes,  then 


196  CHARITY. 


let  me  suffer  ten  times  the  sorrow  of  to-day,  for 
indeed  I  shall  have  deserved  it.  (She  rises  and  they 
embrace?) 

Enter  FITZ  PARTINGTON  cautiously,  L. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Mr.  Fitz  Partington  ? 

Fits.  Yes,  but  don't  be  alarmed.  If  it  is  open 
to  a  person  in  my  debased  position  to  be  regarded 
as  a  friend,  regard  me  as  one. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Mr.  Fitz  Partington,  I  did  you  an 
injustice  when  I  saw  you  last  —  I  doubted  you. 
Will  you  forgive  me  ?  (Holding  out  her  hand?) 

Fitz  (much  affected,  takes  it).  Ma'am,  this  is  the 
most  unprofessional  moment  of  my  career.  No 
one  ever  apologized  to  me  before.  It  is  very  un 
manning.  It  is  like  having  a  tooth  out.  I  hope 
no  one  will  ever  apologize  to  me  again. 

Eve.  Have  you  brought  us  any  news,  Mr.  Fitz 
Partington  ?  I  am  sure  you  are  here  for  some  kind 
purpose. 

Fitz.  It  is  my  fate  to  appear  continually  before 
you  in  the  character  of  the  Mysterious  Warner  of 
penny  romance.  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  once  more, 
beware  of  Smailey.  That  abject  man  is  going  at 
you  again. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Has  he  not  done  with  me  yet  ?  Can 
I  be  poorer  than  I  am  —  or  more  unhappy  —  or 
more  despised  ? 

Fitz.  He  proposes  to  make  you  so,  but  he  will 
be  sold. 


CHARITY.  197 


Eve.  But  with  what  motive  does  he  do  this  ? 

Fitz.  Revenge.  To  adapt  the  words  of  the 
poet  to  Smailey's  frame  of  mind,  "  Revenge  is 
sweet,  especially  on  women." 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Revenge  on  me!  Through  him, 
whom  I  have  never  injured,  I  have  lost  my  home, 
my  fortune,  and  my  good  name,  and  he  seeks 
revenge  on  me? 

Fitz.  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  if  it  is  a  source  of  pain 
to  you  to  know  that  your  friends  have  cut  you,  it 
may  console  you  to  know,  that  in  their  strict  im 
partiality  they  have  also  cut  him.  He  is  hooted  in 
the  streets.  His  windows  are  a  public  cockshy. 
Nobody  is  at  home  to  him,  and  though  he  is  at 
home  to  everybody,  it  is  to  no  purpose.  The  very 
tradesmen  refuse  to  supply  him.  He  is  a  desolate, 
and  a  hungry  being,  and  nobody  calls  on  him  ex 
cept  the  taxes. 

Eve.  I  fear,  Mr.  Fitz  Partington,  that  you  may 
yourself  have  suffered  from  your  association  with 
this  man. 

Fitz  (to  EVE).  I  ?  I  believe  you !  Why  I  go 
about  in  fear  of  my  life.  Not  only  am  I  deprived 
of  the  necessaries  of  existence,  but  I  have  become 
the  very  focus  of  public  execration.  I  couldn't  be 
more  unpopular  if  I  had  come  down  to  stand  for 
the  borough. 

Eve.  But,  Mr.  Fitz  Partington,  how  in  heaven's 
name  does  he  propose  to  injure  my  mother? 
What  can  he  do  to  her,  that  he  has  not  already 
done  ?  '7* 


198  CHARITY. 


Fitz.  He  is  advertising  for  the  present  Mrs.  Van 
Brugh's  marriage  certificate,  and  the  late  Mrs.  Van 
Brugh's  burial  certificate,  with  a  view  to  a  prosecu 
tion  for  bigamy. 

Eve.  Mamma,  mamma,  do  you  hear  this  ? 
(Crosses  to  her.} 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Yes,  I  hear  it.  I  knew  that  he  had 
conceived  this  monstrous  idea,  but  I  have  already 
assured  him  there  is  no  ground  for  his  suspicion. 
I  have  told  him  (after  a  pause,  and  with  much 
shame}  the  truth. 

Fitz.  Yes,  but  he  don't  believe  you.  Read  that. 
(Hands  neivspaper  to  EVE,  who  gives  it  to  MRS.  VAN 
BRUGH,  pointing  out  advertisement^)  Such  is  the 
snake-like  and  foxy  character  of  that  unparalleled 
old  Pharisee,  that  he  don't  believe  you.  Why,  I  am 
a  professional  skeptic  at  two  guineas  a  day,  and 
even  I  believe  you. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (who  has  been  reading  the  advertise 
ment}.  This  is  most  shameful.  This  is  monstrous 
beyond  expression.  I  have  borne  my  terrible  pun 
ishment  to  this  point  patiently,  and  without  undue 
murmur,  but  I  will  bear  no  more.  Let  that  man 
know  this.  He  has  roused  me  at  last,  and  I  will 
meet  him  face  to  face.  Let  him  know  that,  help 
less  and  friendless  as  he  believes  me'to  be  ;  crushed 
as  I  am  under  the  weight  of  the  fearful  revelation 
he  has  extorted  from  me  ;  shunned  as  I  am,  and 
despised  even  by  those  whom  all  despise  but  I,  I 
am  yet  strong  in  this,  that  I  have  nothing  more  to 


CHARITY.  199 


lose.  He  has  made  me  desperate,  and  let  him 
beware.  There  are  men  in  these  days  as  hot  in 
the  defense  of  an  insulted  woman  as  in  the  days 
gone  by,  and  he  shall  have  a  legion  of  them  about 
his  ears.  I  have  been  punished  enough.  I  will 
be  punished  no  further. 

Eve.  But  who  could  have  put  this  monstrous 
scheme  into  his  head  ?  What  demon  could  have 
suggested  it  to  him  ? 

Fitz.  I  suggested  it  to  him,  but  I  ain't  a  demon. 

Eve  and  Mrs.  V.  B.  You! 

Fitz.  I  —  I  drew  up  the  advertisement,  put  it  in, 
and  paid  for  it.  It's  a  dodge,  I've  put  him  on  a 
wrong  scent. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  How  am  I  to  understand  this  ? 

Fitz.  That's  just  it;  you  are  not  to  understand 
—  at  present.  You  are  to  do  me  justice  to  believe 
that,  when  you  do  understand  it,  you  will  like  it 
very  much.  I've  put  him  on  a  wrong  scent,  and  if 
I'm  not  very  much  mistaken,  it  will  have  the  effect 
of  taking  him  in  his  own  toils.  For  the  present  it 
is  enough  to  tell  you  that  his  advertisement  has 
been  answered,  and  that  the  person  who  answered 
it  is  to  meet  him  here  this  afternoon. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Here  ?     Why  does  he  come  to  me  ? 

Fitz.  Because  he  conceives,  with  some  reason, 
that  you  are  not  likely  to  go  to  him.  But  don't  be 
alarmed,  /shall  accompany  him,  as  per  usual. 

[Exit  FITZ  PARTINGTON. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  (covering  her  face).     Oh,  the  shame 


200  CHARITY. 


of  it !  Oh,  the  shame  of  it !  To  know  that  my 
terrible  story  is  the  common  gossip  of  every 
plow-boy  in  the  village  ;  to  feel  that  there  is  not 
a  flighty  servant-girl  who  does  not  gather  her  skirts 
about  her  as  she  passes  me ;  to  be  certain  when 
women  cross  the  road  it  is  to  escape  the  contami 
nation  of  my  presence ;  and  when  they  meet  me 
face  to  face,  it  is  that  they  may  toss  their  head  and 
tell  each  other  that  they  knew  it  from  the  first ! 
Oh,  the  shame  of  it !  Oh,  the  shame  of  it ! 

Eve.  But  Mr.  Smailey  can  clo  nothing.  His 
wicked  schemes  must  recoil  upon  himself.  We 
will  leave  Locroft ;  we  will  leave  this  fearful  place. 
Dr.  Athelney  sails  in  a  fortnight,  and  he  has  made 
arrangements  that  we  may  accompany  him.  There, 
in  a  new  world,  with  new  friends  and  new  duties, 
we  shall  forget  all  that  is  bitter  in  the  past,  and 
gather  new  stores  of  happiness  from  the  future 
that  is  before  us.  (They  embrace?} 

Enter  DR.  ATHELNEY,  L.D.     Crosses  to  EVE. 

Dr.  A.  Mrs.  Van  Brugh ;  Eve,  my  dear,  prepare 
yourself  for  a  surprise.  This  morning,  Mrs.  Van 
Brugh  and  I  were  discussing  Frederick  Smailey's 
probable  course  of  action.  That  very  good  or  very 
bad  young  man  is  at  this  moment  crossing  the 
lawn  with  my  son,  Ted.  He  is  coming  with  the 
view,  no  doubt,  of  setting  all  future  discussion  on 
that  point  at  rest.  Let  us  suspend  judgment  on 
that  admirable  or  detestable  lad  until  he  has 
explained  himself. 


CHARITY.  201 


Eve.  I  knew  he  would  come ;  I  was  sure  of  it. 
Mamma,  dear,  I  told  you  he  loved  me,  I  told  you 
he  would  come. 

Enter  FRED  and  TED  ATHELNEY,  arm-in-arm. 

Fred.  Eve  ! 

Eve  (running  to  him}.  Fred,  my  dear  Fred ! 
(He  embraces  her} 

Ted.  Here  he  is,  I  was  sure  of  him ;  Eve  and  I 
were  both  sure  of  him.  We  knew  him,  Eve,  didn't 
we  ? 

Fred.  Edward  came  to  me,  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  and 
told  me  that  —  that  you  doubted  me.  (Much 
affected} 

Ted.  Yes,  I  told  him  that.  Don't  be  angry  with 
me,  but  when  Fred  Smailey's  honor  is  at  stake, 
Ted  Athelney  doesn't  beat  about  the  bush.  I  went 
straight  to  him  and  told  him  at  once  how  the  land 
lay.  "  Fred,"  said  I,  "  Eve  knows  you,  and  I  know 
you,  but  the  others  don't.  Come  over  with  me  and 
show  them  what  you  really  are.  Show  them  that 
you  are  the  brave,  straight-hearted,  thorough-going 
fellow  I  know  you  to  be."  He  didn't  give  me  time 
to  say  it  twice. 

Fred.  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  will  you  take  my  hand  ? 
(Shakes  her  hand.  Crosses  to  DR.  A.,  then  shakes 
his  hand.}  Dr.  Athelney,  my  very  dear  friend,  this 
is  very,  very  kind  of  you.  You  are  too  noble- 
hearted  a  man  to  confound  the  son  with  the  father. 

Dr.  A.  I  hope  and  trust,  sir,  that  I  have  done 
you  an  injustice.  (Goes  up} 

f  -r-i-  vr TtrriA  aTTY 


202  CHARITY. 


Fred.  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  I  know  not  how  to  ex 
press  my  opinion  of  my  father's  behavior  in  terms 
that  would  be  consistent  with  my  duty  as  a  son. 
I  am  most  painfully  situated.  Permit  me  to  con 
tent  myself  with  offering  you  my  deepest  and  most 
respectful  sympathy. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Mr.  Smailey,  you  speak  very  kindly. 

Ted.  And  he  means  kindly,  mind  that.  I'll 
stake  my  life  he  means  kindly. 

Fred.  Thank  you,  Edward ;  thank  you  very 
heartily.  My  father,  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  is,  I  have 
learnt,  a  very  hard  man  ;  a  good  man,  a  truly  good 
man,  but  a  very  hard  one.  He  is  unaccountably 
incensed  against  you  ;  I  have  pleaded  for  you,  but, 
alas,  in  vain.  I  have  implored  him  to  allow  you,  at 
least,  to  continue  to  occupy  the  cottage  which  is 
endeared  to  me  by  so  many  happy  recollections, 
dear  Eve,  but  in  vain.  (He  takes  EVE'S  hand?) 
He  —  he  answered  me  harshly  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life.  (Much  moved?) 

Ted.  My  very  dear  fellow,  heaven  bless  you  for 
that. 

Fred.  Under  these  circumstances  I  said  to  my 
self,  How  can  I  lighten  this  intolerable  burden  to 
them  ?  If  not  to  Mrs.  Van  Brugh,  at  least  to  Eve. 
I  lay  awake  all  last  night,  thinking  it  over,  and  at 
last  —  at  last  I  saw  my  way. 

Ted  (to  DR.  A.).  Trust  Fred  Smailey  to  find  the 
right  thing  to  do. 

Fred.  I  said  to  myself,  Here  is  an  amiable  and 


CHARITY.  203 


blameless  young  lady  placed,  through  no  fault  of 
her  own,  in  the  painful  position  of  being  engaged 
to  a^  member  of  a  family  which  has  done  her  and 
her  mother  a  fearful  and  irreparable  injury.  Asso 
ciation  with  such  a  family  must  be,  to  her,  a  source 
of  inconceivable  distress.  To  a  sensitive  and  high- 
minded  girl,  such  as  I  know  my  darling  to  be,  an 
alliance  with  such  a  family  must  be  simply  insup 
portable.  Deeply  as  I  love  her,  and  because  I  love 
her  deeply,  I  will  fight  with  the  great  love  that  is 
within  me  ;  I  will  act  as  becomes  a  man  of  honor ; 
I  will  at  once,  and  of  my  own  free  will,  release  her 
from  this  engagement.  Eve,  my  dear  Eve,  you  are 
free.  (JLvE.  faints  in  Mrs.  VAN  BRUGH'S  arms.) 

Mrs.  V.  B,  My  darling !     My  poor,  poor  darling ! 

Dr.  A.  (c.)  Sir,  I  have  been  a  clergyman  of  the 
Church  of  England  for  five-and-forty  years,  and, 
until  to-day,  I  have  never  regretted  the  restrictions 
that  my  calling  has  imposed  upon  me.  My  hands, 
sir,  are  tied.  Ted,  my  boy,  these  remarks  do  not 
apply  to  you. 

Ted  (crosses  to  Fred  SMAILEY).  You  infernal  vil 
lain  !  You  unutterably  mean  and  sneaking  villain ! 
(Seizing  /tim.) 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Edward  !  Edward  ! 

Ted.  Don't  stop  me,  or  I  shall  kill  him.  Look 
there,  you  miserable  hound  (pointing  to  EVE),  look 
there !  Do  you  see  the  work  that  your  infernal 
heart  has  done  ?  Why,  you.  miserable  cur,  she 
loved  you !  You  trembling  hypocrite,  she  loved 


204  CHARITY. 


you  !  Eve  loved  you  —  loved  you  !  Look  at  her, 
man,  and  if  your  devil's  heart  don't  beat  the  harder 
for  the  sight,  it  hasn't  a  beat  left  in  it ! 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Dr.  Athelney,  pray,  pray  stop  him. 

Dr.  A.  Stop  him  ?  No,  certainly  not.  I'm  too 
fond  of  plain  truth,  and  I  hear  it  too  seldom  to  stop 
it  when  I  do  hear  it.  Go  on  with  your  remarks,  my 
boy,  if  you've  any  thing  else  to  say. 

Enter  SMAILEY,  followed  by  FITZ  PARTINGTON,  L. 

Mr.  S.  When  your  son  has  quite  finished  shak 
ing  my  son,  perhaps  you  will  kindly  devote  a  little 
attention  to  me. 

Fred.  Edward,  I  sincerely  hope  you  may  live  to 
apologize  for  this.  (Offers  to  shake  hands ;  TED 
refuses?) 

Dr.  A.  Mr.  Smailey,  I  must  tell  you  that  your 
presence  here  is  an  act  of  audacity  for  which  I  was 
not  prepared. 

Jflr.  S.  I  fear  that  the  surprise  of  my  appearance 
here  is  but  the  first  of  a  series  of  surprises  in  store 
for  you. 

Fitz.  And  I  am  convinced  of  it. 

Dr.  A.  Leave  my  house,  sir  !     (To  SMAILEY.) 

Mr.  S.  Nay,  nay.  I  am  here  in  the  discharge  of  a 
high  public  duty,  and  I  propose  to  remain.  Come, 
Dr.  Athelney,  is  this  quite  considerate  ?  Is  this 
quite  as  it  should  be  ?  You  are  a  minister  of  the 
Church,  about  to  be, invested  with  the  very  highest 
Colonial  functions.  In  affording  shelter  to  this 


CHARITY.  205 


unhappy  person,  have  you  not  allowed  your  sympa 
thy  for  her  misfortunes  to  blind  you  to  the  fact  that 
you  are  a  clergyman  ? 

Dr.  A.  Sir,  I  never  had  my  duty  as  a  clergyman 
so  strongly  before  my  eyes  as  when  I  placed  my 
home  at  the  disposal  of  this  admirable  lady.  And, 
believe  me,  sir,  I  never  felt  so  strongly  disposed  to 
forget  my  duty  as  a  clergyman  as  I  do  at  this  mo 
ment.  My  hands  are  tied.  Ted,  my  boy,  these 
remarks  do  not  apply  to  you. 

Ted.  Mr.  Smailey,  if  you'll  come  with  me,  I'll  see 
you  out. 

Fitz.  (to  TED).  See  him  out  ?  Nonsense.  Hear 
him  out.  He's  worth  listening  to,  I  can  tell  you. 

Mr.  S.  Miss  Brandreth  (to  MRS.  VAN  BRUGH), 
when  you  denied  having  ever  gone  through  the 
form  of  marriage  with  Captain  Van  Brugh,  I  con 
sidered  it  my  duty,  as  a  magistrate  accustomed  to 
deal  with  evidence,  to  disbelieve  you.  At  the  sug 
gestion  of  my  solicitor  (aside,  to  FITZ)  A  lie,  sir,  for 
you  are  no  solicitor  ;  heaven  forgive  you  !  (Aloud.) 
At  his  suggestion  I  advertised  for  the  burial  certifi 
cate  of  the  late  Mrs.  Van  Brugh.  That  advertise 
ment  has  been  answered. 

Fitz.  That  advertisement  has  been  answered. 

Mr.  S.  The  person  who  answered  it  is  at  this 
moment  waiting  without. 

Fitz.  Waiting  without. 

Mr.  S.  And,  with  or  without  your  permission, 
shall  be  introduced. 

18 


2o6  CHARITY. 


Fitz.  Shall  be  introduced. 

Mr.  S.  Mr.  Fitz  Partington  shall  introduce  him. 

Fitz.  It  ain't  a  him,  it's  a  her. 

(Opens  door,  and  discovers  RUTH.) 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Ruth  Tredgett ! 

Ruth.  Ay,  missis,  'tain't  no  other. 

Mr.  S.  What  does  this  mean  ?     Is  this  a  hoax  ? 
(Indignantly,  to  FITZ  PARTINGTON.) 

Fitz.  Is  this  a  hoax  ?     (Appealing  to  the  others}. 

Mr.  S.  What  does  this  woman  want  here  ? 

Fitz.  Woman,  what  do  you  want  here  ? 

Ruth.  Want  to  help  you  agin  her. 

(Indicating  MRS.  VAN  BRUGH.) 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Oh,  Ruth,  Ruth ! 

Mr.  S.  Do  you  mean  this,  Tredgett  ? 

(Crosses  to  RUTH.) 

Ruth.  Ay,  I  mean  it,  Smailey.  It's  justice  ;  and 
justice  must  be  done.  It  was  done  agin  me,  years 
ago,  and  why  not  agin  her  now  ? 

Mr.  S.  Dr.  Athelney,  this  poor  woman  is  an  ex 
ample  to  you.  She  has  learned  her  mistress's  true 
character. 

Ruth.  Ay,  I  have.  I  have  learned  my  missis's 
true  character. 

Mrs.  V.  B.  Ruth,  how  have  I  injured  you,  that 
even  you  turn  against  me  ?  I  loved  you,  Ruth  ! 

Ruth  (with  some  emotion).  You  ha'n't  injured 
me,  but  I'm  a  'spectable  woman.  You've  made  me 
'spectable,  and  you  must  bide  the  consequence. 
(To  MR.  SMAILEY)  — You  want  the  burial-ticket  of 
Captain  Van  Brugh's  dead  wife  ? 


CHARITY.  207 


Mr.  S.  Yes  ;  I  have  offered  ^50  for  it. 

Ruth.  Gi'  us  the  money. 

Mr.  S.  Why  ? 

Ruth.  I've  got  the  paper. 

Mr.  S.  How  ?     How  did  you  get  it  ? 

Ruth.  No  odds  how.     I've  got  it. 

Mr.  S.  Give  it  to  me,  and  you  shall  be  paid. 

Ruth.  Nay,  I  must  ha'  the  brass  first. 

Mr.  S.  As  soon  as  I've  verified  it  you  shall  be 
paid. 

Ruth.  Maybe  you'll  take  some  time  over  it.  I 
must  ha'  the  brass. 

Mr.  S.  (giving  her  a  bank  note).  There  is  the 
money,  but  mind,  if  you  are  deceiving  me,  there  is 
a  constable  outside. 

Ruth.  No  fear.     (Tears  up  the  note?) 

Mr.  S.  You  fool,  what  have  you  done !  Give  me 
the  paper. 

Ruth.  I'll  give  it  to  him. 

(Indicating  FITZ  PARTINGTON,  who  has  come  be 
tween  them?) 

Fitz.  (takes  paper  and  reads}.  "  St.  Andrew's 
Church,  Port  Philip,  17  July,  1858." 

Mr.  S.  '58  !  Why,  she  died  in  '69 —  I  know  she 
died  in  '69.  This  is  some  forgery  —  we  shall  want 
the  constable  yet. 

Fitz.  This  is  some  forgery.  We  shall  want  the 
constable  yet.  (Reads.}  "This  is  to  certify  that 
on  the  above  date  I  read  the  burial  service  over  the 
remains  of  Martha  Vane,  of  Port  Philip."  (SMAILEY 
sinks  into  a  chair} 


2o8  CHARITY. 


Dr.  A.  Martha  Vane  ! 

Mrs.  V.  B.  That  was  her  maiden  name,  the  name 
under  which  she  passed  when  she  left  her  husband. 

Mr.  S.  (muck  confused}.  This  is  not  what  I  adver 
tised  for. 

Fitz.  No,  but  it's  what  /  advertised  for. 

Mr.  S.  You  ?     What  have  you  to  do  with  this  ? 

Fitz.  I  was  engaged  to  trace  this  forgery  to  you 
at  the  time  when  you  engaged  me  to  undermine 
the  character  of  this  inestimable  lady.  In  strict 
compliance  with  the  terms  of  our  contract,  you 
have  allowed  me  the  free  run  of  all  your  books, 
papers,  and  memoranda,  and  I  am  much  obliged  to 
you. 

Fred,  (who  has  heard  this  with  the  greatest  con 
cent).  Father  !  Tell  them  that  it's  a  lie. 

Fitz.  It  ain't  a  lie.  The  case  is  only  too  clear. 
Tredgett  and  he  were  both  in  it,  but  she  turns 
Queen's  evidence.  Mr.  Smailey,  I  desire  to  press 
hardly  on  no  fellow-creature,  but  your  own  police 
man  is  without,  and  he  will  be  happy  to  walk  off 
with  you  whenever  you  find  it  convenient  to  be 
arrested.  (About  to  touch  SMAILEY  on  shoulder^ 

Fred.  Father,  tell  them  that  it's  a  lie.  (To  FITZ.) 
Keep  your  hands  off  him, —  stand  back  —  it's  a  lie,  I 
tell  you.  Stand  back,  or  I  shall  do  you  a  mischief. 
Father,  whatever  others  believe  of  you,  /  believe 
you  to  be  the  best  and  truest  man  on  earth.  For 
my  sake,  for  the  sake  of  my  belief,  tell  them  that 
it's  a  lie.  For  the  love  of  God,  tell  them  it's  a  lie. 


CHARITY.  209 


Mr.  S.  I  have  nothing  to  say,  my  boy ;  I  have 
lied  enough. 

Fred.  But  they  will  take  you  away!  Great 
heaven,  think  what  will  follow  ! 

Mr.  S.  I  care  not  what  may  follow.  Whatever 
punishment  may  be  in  store  for  me,  will  be  as  noth 
ing  compared  to  the  bitter  shame  of  my  degradation 
in  the  eyes  of  my  poor  boy,  whom  I  have  loved.  He 
will  desert  me  now !  And  what  matters  the  rest  — 
what  matters  the  rest  ? 

Fred.  Father,  I  swear  that  where  you  are,  there 
will  I  be  to  the  end. 

Mr.  S.  Heaven  bless  you  for  that. 

Fred.  Whatever  you  may  have  been  —  whatever 
/  may  have  been  —  I  am  your  son,  and  I  love  you  ; 
and  I  will  be  with  you  —  to  the  end ! 

Mr.  S.  And  the  end  is  at  hand. 

Fitz.  And  the  end  is  at  hand. 

[Exeunt  FREDERICK  SM.AXLEX,  followed  by  FITZ 
PARTINGTON.  EVE  stretches  out  her  arms 
towards  FREDERICK  as  he  goes,  but  he  does 
not  see  her. 

Ruth  (who,  during  tlie  preceding  dialogue,  has  been 
kneeling  at  MRS.  VAN  BRUGH'S /<?<?/).  Mistress,  my 
good  and  kind  mistress,  I  had  that  paper  in  safe 
keeping  miles  away,  I  walked  day  and  night  to 
fetch  it.  It  was  hard  to  leave  you  in  your  sorrow, 
but  none  other  could  have  got  it.  My  mistress, 
my  pure  and  perfect  mistress,  my  angel  from 
heaven,  we  will  never  part  again. 


210  CHARITY. 


Mrs.  V.  B.  We  will  never  part  again,  Ruth. 
Under  the  guidance  of  our  loving  friend,  we  will 
sail  to  the  new  land,  where,  humbly  as  becomes 
penitents,  cheerfully  as  becomes  those  who  have 
hope,  earnestly  as  becomes  those  who  speak  out  of 
the  fullness  of  their  experience,  we  will  teach  les 
sons  of  loving  kindness,  patience,  faith,  forbearance, 
hope,  and  charity. 

Dr.  A.  "  And  the  greatest  of  these  is  CHARITY." 


THE    PRINCESS. 


(Being  a  Respectful  Perversion  of  Mr.  Tennyson's  Poem.) 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS. 


KING   HlLDEBRAND  

PRINCE  HILARION,  his  Son        

CYRIL       )  his  friends.  Noblemen   of  ( 

FLORIAN  )    King  HildebrancPs  Court  \ 

KING  GAMA 

PRINCE  ARAC          \  f 

PRINCE  GURON        >-  his  Sons    ... 

PRINCE  SCYNTHIUS  )  ( 

ATHO,  King  Hildebrand"1  s  Chamberlain, 

FIRST  OFFICER        

SECOND  OFFICER     

GOBBO,  a  Porter       

f  Daughter  of  King  Ga-  \ 

PRINCESS  IDA  4  ma,  and  Principal  of  >- 
(  the  Ladies'*  University  ) 
(  Professor  of  Expert-  f 
(  mental  Science  ) 

Professor  of  Abstract 
Philosophy 

MELISSA,  her  Daughter     

BERTHA 

ADA 

CHLOE 

SACHARISSA 

SYLVIA 

PHCEBE 

PHYLLIS 

AMARANTHE 

LAURA  .. 


LADY  PSYCHE 


LADY  BLANCHE 


Undergraduates. 


MR.  DAVID  FISHER. 
Miss  MARIA  SIMPSON. 

(MRS.  W.  H.  LISTON.) 

Miss  AUGUSTA  THOMSON. 
Miss  MONTGOMERY. 
MR.  ELLIOTT. 
Miss  JESSIE  EARLE. 
Miss  HARRINGTON. 

MlSS  EWELL. 

MR.  FRANKS. 

MR.  ARTHUR  BROWN. 

MR.  DAVIS. 

MR.  ST.  MAUR. 

Miss  MATTIE  REINHARDT. 
Miss  FANNY  ADDISON. 

MRS.  POYNTER. 

Miss  PATTI  JOSEPHS. 
Miss  JOY. 
Miss  CLYFOARD. 
Miss  MOORE. 
Miss  ALMA. 

MlSS  EVERARD. 
MlSS  FlTZJAMES. 
MlSS  CORINNE. 

Miss  GRAHAM. 
Miss  CLARA. 


Undergraduates,  Soldiers,  Courtiers,  Pages, 


THE  PRINCESS. 


SCENE    FIRST.  —  Court    in    King    Hildebrand's 
Palace. 

KING  HILDEBRAND,  discovered  seated,  in  gloomy 
mood —  FLORIAN  and  other  COURTIERS  dis 
covered  looking  off  through  telescopes  — 
CYRIL  standing  by  the  KING. 

Hilde.  See  you  no  sign  of  Gama  ? 

Flori.  None,  my  liege. 

Hilde.  It's  very  odd  indeed  !     If  Gama  fails 
To  put  in  an  appearance  at  our  court, 
Before  the  sun  has  set  in  yonder  west, 
And  fails  to  bring  the  Princess  Ida  here  — 
To  whom  our  son  Hilarion  was  betrothed 
At  the  extremely  early  age  of  one  — 
There's  war  between  King  Gama  and  ourself. 
(Aside  to  CYRIL)  Oh  Cyril,  how  I  dread  this  inter 
view  ! 

It's  twenty  years  since  he  and  I  have  met. 
He  was  a  twisted  monster  —  all  awry, 
As  though  Dame  Nature,  angry  with  her  work, 
Had  crumbled  it  in  fitful  petulance ! 

213 


2i4  THE  PRINCESS. 

Cyril.  But,  sir,  a  twisted  and  ungainly  trunk, 
Often  bears  goodly  fruit  —  perhaps  he  was 
A  kind,  well-spoken  gentleman  ? 

Hilde.  Oh,  no  — 

For,  adder-like,  his  sting  lay  in  his  tongue ! 
His  bitter  insolence  still  rankles  here, 
Although  a  score  of  years  have  come  and  gone ! 
His  outer  man,  gnarled,  knotted  as  it  was, 
Seemed  to  his  cruel  and  cynical  within, 
Hyperion  to  a  Saturday  Review !  ' 

Cyril.  Oh,  bear  with  him  —  he  is  an  old,  old  man. 
Old  men  are  fretful  —  peevish,  as  we  know. 
A  worm  will  sometimes  turn  —  so  will  the  milk 
Of  human  kindness,  if  it's  kept  too  long. 

Flori.  (looking  through  glass).  But  stay,  my  liege  ; 

o'er  yonder  mountain's  brow 
Comes  a  small  body  bearing  Gama's  arms ; 
And,  now  I  look  more  closely  at  it,  sir, 
I  see  attached  to  it  King  Gama's  legs ; 
From  which  I  gather  this  corollary  — 
That  that  small  body  must  be  Gama's  own  ! 

Hilde.  Ha  !     Is  the  Princess  with  him  ? 

Flori.  Well,  my  liege, 

Unless  her  ladyship  is  six  feet  high, 
And  wears  moustachios,  too,  and  smokes  cigars, 
And  rides  en  cavalier,  in  coat  of  mail, 
I  do  not  think  she  is. 

Hilde.  (excited).  Come,  bustle  there  ! 
For  Gama,  place  the  richest  robes  we  have ! 
For  Gama,  place  the  coarsest  prison  dress  ! 


THE  PRINCESS.  215 

For  Gama,  let  our  best  spare  bed  be  aired  ! 
For  Gama,  let  our  deepest  dungeon  yawn  ! 
For  Gama,  lay  the  costliest  banquet  out ! 
For  Gama,  place  cold  water  and  dry  bread ! 
For  as  King  Gama  brings  the  Princess  here, 
Or  brings  her  not,  so  shall  King  Gama  have — 
Much  more  than  every  thing  —  much  less   than 
nothing ! 

Enter  PRINCE  HILARION. 

Hilar.  Well  father,  is  there  news  for  me,  at  last  ? 

Hilde.  My  son,  King  Gama's  host  is  now  in  sight : 
Prepare  to  meet  the  fascinating  bride 
To  whom  you  were  betrothed  so  long  ago. 
Why,  how  you  sigh ! 

Hilar.  My  liege,  I'm  much  afraid 

The  Princess  Ida  has  not  come  with  him. 

Hilde.  And  why  ? 

Hilar.         I've  heard  she  has  forsworn  the  world, 
And,  with  a  band  of  women,  shut  herself 
Within  a  lonely  country  house,  and  there 
Devotes  herself  to  stern  philosophies. 

Hilde.  Then,  I  should  say,  the  loss  of  such  a  wife 
Is  one  to  which  a  reasonable  man 
Would  easily  be  reconciled. 

Hilar.  Oh  no  — 

Or  I  am  not  a  reasonable  man. 
She  is  my  wife  :  has  been  for  twenty  years. 

Hilde.  That's   true — you  were   a  baby  in   long 
clothes 


216  THE  PRINCESS. 

When  you  gained  Ida's  heart  and  she  gained  yours. 

Hilar.  Yes  —  I  remember  —  each  of  us  was  won  ! 
I  think  I  see  her  now  !     (looking  through  telescope). 

Hilde.  Ha !  let  me  look ! 

Hilar.  In  my  mind's  eye,  I  mean  —  a  blushing 

bride  — 

All  bib  and  tucker  —  frill  and  furbelow  ! 
How  exquisite  she  looked  as  she  was  borne 
Recumbent  in  the  monthly  nurse's  arms  ! 
How  the  bride  wept !  —  nor  would  be  comforted 
Until  the  hireling  mother-for-the-nonce 
Administered  refreshment  in  the  vestry. 
And  I  remember  feeling  much  annoyed 
That  she  should  weep  at  marrying  with  me  ; 
"  But  then,"  I  thought,  "these  brides  are  all  alike ! 
Cry  on,  young  lady  —  brides  are  bound  to  cry. 
You  cry  at  marrying  me  ?     How  much  more  cause 
You'd  have  to  cry  if  it  were  broken  off !  " 
These  were  my  thoughts  —  I  kept  them  to  myself, 
For,  at  that  age,  I  had  not  learnt  to  speak. 

Hilde.  Your  memory  is  singularly  good. 

Hilar.  Do  you  remember,  too,  the  wedding  feast — 
Rolls  steeped  in  milk,  and  other  softened  food, 
Fit  for  our  undeveloped  little  gums  ? 
And  talk  of  drink,  I  never  shall  forget, 
How  merrily  we  passed  that  nursing  bottle  ! 
A  curly  headed  patriarch  of  three  — 
The  Princess  Ida's  uncle  —  then  proposed 
The  happy  couple's  health  —  the  bridesmaids,  then, 
Fifteen  in  number — each  six  weeks  of  age, 


THE  PRINCESS.  217 

Began  to  weep  —  the  fifteen  groomsmen,  too 
(The  eldest  of  them  eighteen  months  or  so), 
Wept  also  —  then,  remembering  they  were  men, 
Dashed  from  their  eyes  the  unaccustomed  brine ! 
We  parted  then  —  and  since,  for  twenty  years, 
We  have  not  met.     It  seems  quite  strange  that  she 
Should  have  become  a  woman  in  the  while ! 
She  speaks  a  hundred  languages  I'm  told. 

Hilde.  Your  late  mamma  had  mastered  only  one, 
Yet  she  was  never  at  a  loss  for  words  ! 

Hilar.  But  think  how  useful  is  a  wife  who  can 
Express  her  fancies  in  a  hundred  tongues. 

Hilde.  You   will    find    one,    of    average    length, 
enough. 

Hilar.  I've  heard  she  hopes  to  make  all  women 

swear 

That  they'll  abjure,  for  aye,  the  tyrant  Man ! 
She's  far  before  the  age  in  which  she  lives ! 

Hilde.  At  all  events  she's  singular  in  that ; 
Most  grown  up  ladies  of  (our  court  give  out 
That  they  are  several  years  behind  their  age ! 

Hilar.  A  woman  thus  endowed  should  have  been 

born 
A  century  hence,  at  least ! 

Hilde.  The  day  will  come 

When  you  will  most  devoutly  wish  she  had. 

Enter  CYRIL. 

Cyril.  My  liege,  King  Gama's  train  is  at  the  gate, 
And  prays  admission. 

'9 


218  THE  PRINCESS. 

Hilde.  Cyril,  show  him  in. 

Though  Princess  Ida  wore  a  Gorgon's  head, 
He  shall  not  tamper  with  King  Hildebrand ! 

Flotirish  —  Procession.  Enter  CYRIL,  FLORIAN  and 
COURT,  ushering  KING  GAMA,  and  one  ATTEND 
ANT. 

Gama.  So   this   is    Castle    Hildebrand  ?  —  well, 

well  — 

Dame  Rumor  whispered  that  the  place  was  grand  ; 
She  told  me  that  your  taste  was  exquisite  — 
Superb  —  unparalleled  — 

Hilde.  Oh,  really,  king 

Gama    But  she's  a  liar  !     Why,  how  old  you've 

grown ! 

Is  this  Hilarion  ?  —  why  you've  changed,  too  ! 
You  were  a  singularly  handsome  child  ! 
(to  CYRIL)  Are  you  a  courtier  ?     Come,  then,  ply 

your  trade ! 

Tell  me  some  lies :  how  do  you  like  your  king  ? 
Vile  Rumor  says  he's  all  but  imbecile  — 
Now  that's  not  true  ! 

Cyril.  My  lord,  we  love  our  king : 

His  wise  remarks  are  valued  by  his  court 
As  precious  stones. 

Gama.  And  for  the  self-same  cause ! 

Like  precious  stones  the  wit  of  Hildebrand 
Derives  its  value  from  its  scarcity ! 
Come  now,  be  honest,  tell  the  truth  for  once, 
Tell  it  of  me !     Come,  come,  I'll  harm  you  not ! 


THE   PRINCESS.  219 

This  leg  is  crooked  —  this  foot  is  ill-designed  — 
This  shoulder  wears  a  hump  —  come,  out  with  it ! 
Look,  here's  my  face  —  now  am  I  not  the  worst 
Of  Nature's  blunders  ? 

Hilar.  Nature  never  errs. 

To  those  who  know  the  workings  of  your  mind, 
Your  face  and  figure,  sir,  suggest  a  book 
Appropriately  bound. 

Gama.  Why,  harkye,  sir  ! 

How  dare  you  bandy  words  with  me  ? 

Hilar.  No  need 

To  bandy  aught  that  appertains  to  you. 

Gama  (to   HILDEBRAND).  Do   you  permit   this, 
king  ? 

Hilde.  We  are  in  doubt 

Whether  to  treat  you  as  an  honored  guest, 
Or  as  a  traitor  knave  who  plights  his  word 
And  breaks  it ! 

Gama.  If  the  casting  vote's  with  me 

I  give  it  for  the  former. 

Hilde.  We  shall  see : 

By  the  terms  of  our  contract,  signed  and  sealed 
You're  bound  to-day  to  bring  the  Princess  here 
To  join  her  spouse.  Why  is  she  not  with  you  ? 

Gama.  Why  ?     Come,    I'll    tell    you,    if    you'll 

answer  this  : 

What  think  you  of  a  wealthy  purse-proud  man 
Who,  \\  hen  he  calls  upon  a  starving  friend, 
Pulls  out  his  gold,  and  flourishes  his  notes, 
And  flashes  diamonds  in  the  pauper's  eyes  — 


220  THE  PRINCESS. 

What  name  have  you  for  such  an  one  ? 

Hilde.  A  snob ! 

Gama.  Just  so :  King  Hildebrand,  I  am  no  snob 
The  girl  has  beauty,  virtue,  learning,  wit, 
Grace,  humor,  wisdom,  charity,  and  pluck. 
Would  it  be  kindly,  think  you,  to  parade 
These  brilliant  qualities  before  your  eyes  ? 
Oh  no,  King  Hildebrand,  I  am  no  snob  ! 

Hilde.  But  hang  it,  man,  the  contract  that  we 

signed 
Some  twenty  years  ago  — 

Gama.  Why,  here's  good  news  ! 

(to  Court)  At  last  your  king  is  going  to  redeem 
His  lengthy  list  of  broken  promises  — 
And  very  properly,  as  wise  men  should, 
Begin  at  the  beginning  !  * 

Hilde.  Stop  that  tongue, 

Or  you  shall  lose  the  monkey  head  that  holds  it  ! 
Oh,  I'll  be  even  with  you,  yet,  for  this. 

Gama.  Bravo !     Your  king  deprives  me  of  my 

head, 
That  he  and  I  may  meet  on  equal  terms  ! 

Hilde.  Of    this   anon  —  we'll   try  the   force  of 

arms  — 
Where  is  she  now  ? 

Gama.  In  Castle  Adamant  — 

One  of  my  many  country  houses.     There 
She  rules  a  woman's  University, 
With  full  five  hundred  girls  who  learn  of  her. 

Cyril.  Five  hundred  girls  !     Five  hundred  ecsta 
sies  ! 


THE  PRINCESS.  221 


Gama.  But  no  mere  girls,  my  good  young  gentle 


man 


With  all  the  college  learning  that  you  boast, 
The  youngest  there  will  prove  a  match  for  you ! 

Cyril.  With  all  my  heart,  if  she's  the  prettiest ! 
Fancy —  five  hundred  matches  —  all  alight ! 
That's  if  I  strike  them,  as  I  hope  to  do. 

Gama.  Despair  your   hope  —  their    hearts    are 

dead  to  man. 

He  who  desires  to  gain  their  favor  must 
Be  qualified  to  strike  their  teeming  brains, 
And  not  their  hearts  !     They're  safety-matches,  sir, 
And  they  light  only  on  the  knowledge  box, 
So  yodve  no  chance  ! 

Hilar.  We'll  try,  at  all  events. 

I'll  take  no  soldiers,  father,  in  my  train  — 
Cyril  and  Florian  here  will  go  with  me, 
And  we  will  storm  them  ere  the  week  is  out. 

Gama.  That's    brave!     They're   only  women  — 
storm  away ! 

Hilar.  Oh,  don't   mistake   us,  sir,  we  mean   to 

storm 

Their  eyes  and  hearts,  and  not  their  citadel. 
With  sighs  we'll  charge  our  mines  and  counter-mines, 
Dance  steps  shall  be  our  scaling  ladders,  with 
Those  croquet  mallets  for  our  battering  rams. 
Fair  flowers  shall  bear  the  only  blades  we  wield, 
Our  eyes  shall  be  our  very  deadliest  darts, 
And  bon-bon  crackers  our  artillery ! 

Gama.  And  so  you  think  to  conquer  them  with 
sighs  ?  '9* 


222  THE   PRINCESS. 

My  good  young  gentleman,  a  sigh,  to  them, 

Is  simply  an  exceptionally  marked 

Contraction  of  the  intercostal  muscles  ! 

Croquet  is  interesting  only  when 

It  illustrates  familiar  theories 

Of  incidental  and  reflecting  angles. 

Fair  flowers,  to  them,  are  mere  embodiments 

Of  calyx,  pistil,  stamina,  and  petal. 

Expressive  eyes  would  have  their  charm,  no  doubt  — 

Hilar.  Of  course  ! 

Gama.  But  only,  be  it  understood, 

As  illustrating  theories  of  vision  ! 
But  here  are  letters  —  take  them  if  you  like  — 
Perhaps  she's  tired  of  disobedience, 
And  may  admit  you. 

Hilde.  Good  :  Hilarion,  go, 

Take  Florian  and  Cyril,  as  you  say, 
King  Gama,  we  detain  you  pris'ner  here, 
As  hostage  for  the  safety  of  our  son. 

Gama.  A  prisoner  ?    Why,  what  should  I  do  here 
At  Castle  Hildebrand  ?     I  am  not  mad ! 

Hilde.  You  can  amuse  yourself  by  fancying 
That  there's  an  execution  in  our  house, 
And  you're  the  party  in  possession  —  or 
That  we  are  dead  and  you've  succeeded  us. 
In  short,  suppose  whatever  state  of  things 
Would  offer  you  the  greatest  happiness  ; 

Gama  (to  HILARION).  You  run  a  risk,  my  friend  ; 

so  take  good  heed, 
For  no  one  knows  her  temper  but  myself : 


THE  PRINCESS.  223 

(to  KING)  Since  her  betrothal,  king,  until  the  day 
When  she  abjured  all  male  society, 
I  was  the  only  man  she  ever  saw ! 

Hilar.  Oh,  that  explains  the  mystery  at  once, 
And  simplifies  our  task  —  come,  Florian, 
And  we  will  show  these  maidens  what  they've  lost 
\Exeunt  HILARION,  FLORIAN,  and  CYRIL. 

SCENE  SECOND.  —  The  Gates  of  Castle  Adamant. 
Enter  GOBBO,  with  ladies'  robes  on  his  arm. 

Gobbo.  More  robes  for  undergraduates !     I  sup 
pose 

Some  students  are  expected  here  to-day. 
No  girl  without  a  robe  may  pass  those  gates ! 
They  are  so  proud  of  these  here  caps  and  gowns, 
They  hardly  like  to  take  'em  off  a-night ! 
They  even  wear  (or  so  I've  heard  it  said) 
Night-caps  and  night-gowns  when  they  go  to  bed ! 

\Exit  into  porter  s  lodge. 

Enter  HILARION,  CYRIL,  and  FLORIAN. 

Hilar.  So,  here's  the  Princess  Ida's  castle  ?    Well, 
They  must  be  lovely  girls  if  it  requires 
Such  walls  as  these  to  keep  intruders  off ! 

Cyril.  To  keep  men  off  is  only  half  their  charge, 
And  that  the  easier  half.     I  much  suspect 
The  object  of  these  walls  is  not  so  much 
To  keep  men  off  as  keep  the  maidens  in ! 

Hilar.  Here  lives  the  porter,  Cyril.  I'll  be  bound 


224  THE  PRINCESS. 

He's  quite  as  learned  as  the  rest  of  them, 

Half  Newton  and  half  Bacon !     Here  he  comes. 

Enter  GoRBofrom  lodge. 

Cyril.  Half   Bacon  ?     No,  —  all  Bacon  I  should 

say ! 

Gobbo.  Now  then,  what  is  it  ? 
Hilar.  I'm  a  royal  prince ; 

These  gentlemen  are  followers  of  mine ; 
We  hold  King  Gama's  letters,  charging  you 
To  bear  us  safely  to  the  Council  Hall, 
In  which  the  Princess  Ida  holds  her  state. 
Gobbo.  Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  ho  ! 
Hilar.  How  now  ?  —  you  mock  at  us  ?     (Draws 

sword) 
Gobbo.  Mock  you  ?     Why,  bless  your  heart  and 

soul  alive, 

No  man  may  place  his  foot  within  those  walls ; 
It's  death  to  disobey  our  Princess,  sir ! 

Flori.  It's  double  death  to  disobey  your  king ! 

(draws.) 
Cyril.  It's    treble  death   to   disobey   ourselves ! 

(draws) 

Gobbo.  But,  sirs,  I  am  the  only  man  alive 
Who  ever  enters ! 

Flori.  You  ? 

Gobbo.  Yes  !     Once  a  year 

I  am  led  through  their  ranks  that  they  may  see 
What  sort  of   thing's  a  man!     "See  here!"  she 
cries. 


THE  PRINCESS.  225 

"  See  —  this  is  what  you  lose  in  losing  man  ! 

This  is  a  courtly  knight  —  well  born,  well  formed  !  " 

(I'm  comely,  sirs  ;  but,  bless  you,  I'm  no  knight !) 

"  Look,  girls,"  she  cries,  "  this  is  a  courtly  knight  — 

A  type  of  all  that's  beautiful  in  man ! " 

(aloud)  And  then  they  make  me  gibber,  squeak, 

and  mow ; 

Then,  with  much  deference  and  mock  courtesy, 
They  bow  me  to  my  duty  at  the  gate  ! 

Flor.  Are  there  no  males  whatever  in  those  walls  ? 

Gobbo.  None,  gentlemen,  excepting  letter  mails  ! 
And  they  are  driven  (as  males  often  are 
In  other  large  communities)  — by  women ! 
If  you'll  believe  me,  gentlemen,  I  swear, 
She's  so  confoundedly  particular, 
She'll  scarcely  suffer  Dr.  Watts's  hymns  ; 
And  all  the  animals  she  owns  are  "  hers  " ! 
The  ladies  rise  at  cockcrow  every  morn 

Hilar.  Oh,  then  they  have  male  poultry ! 

Gobbo.  Not  at  all. 

(Confidentially^     The  Growing's  done  by  an  accom 
plished  hen ! 

Cyril.  And  what  are  these  ?    (Looking  at  robes  in 
lodge '.) 

Gobbo.  The  academic  robes, 

Worn  by  the  lady  undergraduates 
When  they  matriculate. 

Hilar.  I'll  try  one  on.     (Does  so.) 

Why,  see  —  I'm  covered  to  the  very  toes  ! 
Ha  !  I've  a  proposition  ! 


226  THE  PRINCESS. 

Flori.  State  it  then. 

Hilar.  Suppose  we  dress  ourselves  as  girls,  and 

claim 

Admission  to  this  University  ? 
It  is  a  thing  we've  often  done  at  home 
In  amateur  theatricals.     You  know 
How  well  I  play  viragos  in  burlesque ! 

Flori.  My  Cleopatra,  too  —  remember  that ! 
Cyril,  My  Mrs.  Bouncer,  too,  in  '  Box  and  Cox ' ! 
Hilar.  Wilt  play  the  woman,  then  ? 
Cyril.  Of  course  !     What  knight 

Would  hesitate  to  "  take  a  woman's  part  "  ? 

Quartette.  —  HILARION,  CYRIL,  FLORIAN,  and 
GOBBO,  as  they  dress  themselves  in  women  s 
clothes. 

"  Les  Trois  Cousines  "  (La  Perichole). 

Flori.        If  we  are  hailed  with  any  query, 

Say  we  are  nice  young  ladies,  three ; 
Who  of  the  world  terribly  weary, 

Enter  a  University. 
Such  lovely  girls,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha ! 
AIL          Such  lovely  girls,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha ! 
Cyril.       We  will  declare  to  them  that  lately, 

We  have  been  bored  with  suitors  stately, 
And  we  prefer  young  ladies  greatly  — 

Sorry  to  say  that  that's  too  true ! 
All.  Sorry  to  say  that  that's  too  true ! 

Hilar.      We  must  take  care  when  we  are  talking, 
Never  our  manly  tastes  to  show  ; 


THE  PRINCESS.  227 

Hold  up  our  dresses  thus  in  walking, 
Showing  an  inch  of  ankle  —  so  ! 

All.  Showing  an  inch  of  ankle  —  so ! 
Such  lovely  girls,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha ! 
Such  lovely  girls,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha ! 

Gobbo  (in  terror].  But,  gentlemen,    observe  —  if 

you  do  this, 
What's  to  become  of  me  ? 

Hilar.  I  do  not  know 

What  will  become  of  you  if  we  do  this  ; 
But  I  can  read  the  fate  in  store  for  you 
If  you  presume  to  interfere  with  us. 
Now,  porter,  say  to  whom  we  should  apply 
To  gain  admission. 

Gobbo  (in  tears).  Why,  to  Lady  Blanche 
Or  Lady  Psyche. 

Flori.  Which  is  prettier  ? 

Gobbo.  Well,  /  like  Lady  Blanche  by  far  the  best. 

Flori.  Then  we  declare  for  Lady  Blanche  at  once. 

Gobbo.  You  see,  she's  more  my  age  —  the  other 

one. 
Is  young  and  pretty  !  (contemptuously}. 

Cyril.  Bah  !     Then  I  retract ; 

We  will  be  Psyche's  interesting  charge  ! 
So  go  and  summon  her.  (GOBBO  rings  and  then  exit.) 

Flori.  But  stop  a  bit, 

What  will  your  father  think  of  such  a  scheme  ? 

Cyril.  Oh,  he  be  —  dashed  ! 

Hilar.  Extremely  shocked  I  am  ! 

Cyril.  I  meant  my  sire  — 


228  THE  PRINCESS. 

Hilar.  I  thought  you  meant  your  "  dam  "  ! 

Enter  LADY  PSYCHE  from  gate,  attended. 

Psyche.  Who  summons  us  ? 

Hilar.  Three  would-be  students,  ma'am  — 

Three  noble  ladies,  ma'am,  of  good  estate, 
Who  wish  to  join  this  University  (they  coitrtesy). 

Psyche.  If,  as  you  say,  you  wish  to  join  our  ranks, 
And  will  conform  with  all  our  rules,  'tis  well ; 
But  understand  —  you  must  adapt  yourselves 
To  all  the  regulations  now  in  force, 
In  Princess  Ida's  University. 

Hilar.  To  all  its  rules,  we  cheerfully  subscribe. 

Flori.  (aside  to  HILARION).   Here's  a  catastrophe, 

Hilarion  ! 

This  is  my  sister !     She'll  remember  me, 
Though  years  have  passed  since  she  and  I  have 
met! 

Hilar.  No  matter,  hide  your  face  —  she'll  know 
you  not. 

Psyche.    You    say    you're    noblewomen  —  well, 

you'll  find 

No  sham  degrees  for  noblewomen,  here  — 
Or  other  cruel  contrivances  to  draw 
An  arbitrary  line  'twixt  rich  and  poor, 
No  butteries,  or  other  institutes, 
To  make  poor  students  feed  rich  cooks  —  no  tufts 
To  mark  nobility  ;  except  such  tufts 
As  indicate  nobility  of  brain. 
As  to  your  fellow-students,  mark  me  well  — 


THE  PRINCESS.  229 

There  are  five  hundred  maidens  in  these  walls 
All  good,  all  learned,  and  all  beautiful. 
You  must  select  your  intimates  from  these ; 
They  are  prepared  to  love  you  ;  will  you  swear 
You'll  do  your  best  to  love  them  in  return  ? 

Flori.  Upon  our  words  and   honors,  ma'am,  we 
will ! 

Psyche.  And   will   you   swear    that    if,   by   any 

chance, 

You're  thrown  into  a  man's  society, 
You'll  not  allow  your  thoughts  to  stray  from  us, 
But,  at  the  earliest  opportunity, 
You'll  give  up  his  society  for  ours  ? 

Cyril.  All  this,  dear  madam,  cheerfully  we  swear. 

Psyche.  But  we  go  further  :  will  you  undertake 
That  you  will  never  marry  any  man  ? 

Flori.  Indeed  we  never  will ! 

Psyche.  Consider  well, — 

You  must  prefer  our  maids  to  all  mankind ! 

Hilar.  To   all   mankind  we   much    prefer  your 
maids  ! 

Cyril.  We  should  be  dolts,  indeed,  if  we  did  not, 
Seeing  how  fair 

Hilar.  (aside  to  CYRIL).  Take  care,  that's  rather 

strong  ! 
(aloud}  We  have  seen  men  of  wealth —  ay,  princes 

too  — 

Whose  beauty  has  been  so  remarkable, 
That  half  the  maidens  in  our  monarch's  court 
Have  pined  away  and  died  for  love  of  them ! 


23o  THE  PRINCESS. 

These  men  —  Apollos  in  their  manly  grace, 
Indeed  in  every  thing  (except  in  that 
They  wore  a  proper  quantity  of  clothes)  — 
We  think  of  with  profound  indifference, 
But,  when  we  see  a  woman  who  excels 
In  virtue,  scholarship,  and  loveliness, 
We  long  to  lay  our  heads  upon  her  breast, 
And  join  our  lives  with  hers  ! 

Psyche.  Why,  that's  well  said. 

But  have  you  left  no  lovers  at  your  home, 
Who  may  pursue  you  here  ? 

Hilar.  No,  madam,  none  — 

We're  homely  ladies,  as  no  doubt  you  see, 
And  we  have  never  fished  for  lover's  love  — 
We  smile  at  girls  who  deck  themselves  with  gems, 
False  hair,  and  meretricious  ornaments, 
To  chain  the  fleeting  fancy  of  a  man  ; 
But  do  not  imitate  them.     What  we  have 
Of  hair  is  all  our  own  —  our  color,  too, 
Unladylike,  but  not  unwomanly, 
Is  but  the  glow  of  rugged,  boisterous  health  ; 
Our  gait,  untrammeled  by  the  influence 
Of   high  heeled  boots,  small  waists,  and  Grecian 

bends, 

May  seem  undignified  —  but  then  we  walk 
As  Nature  meant  us  to  —  and  man  has  learnt 
To  reckon  Nature  an  impertinence  ! 

Psyche.  I  know  how  coldly  men  regard  a  girl, 
Whose  beauty  is  her  poorest  excellence ; 
But  beauty  goes  for  nothing  in  these  walls. 


THE  PRINCESS.  231 

You'll  find  yourselves  appreciated  here  : 

If  what  you  say  is  true,  you'll  spend  with  us 

A  happy,  happy  time  ! 

Cyril.  If,  as  you  say, 

Five  hundred  lovely  maidens  wait  within 
To  welcome  us  with  smiles  and  open  arms, 
I  think  there's  very  little  doubt  we  shall ! 

[Exeunt  into  Castle. 

SCENE  THIRD.  —  Grounds  of  Castle  Adamant ; 
Waterfall  and  Stream,  crossed  by  rustic 
bridge ;  GIRL-STUDENTS  discovered  grouped 
about  the  stage,  occupied  with  philosophical 
instruments ;  &c. 

Ada.  I  shall  be  quite  alone,  dear,  in  my  rooms, 
So  come  and  spend  a  long,  long  evening — do  ! 
And  bring  your  steam-engine  ! 

Chloe.  Oh,  that  I  will ! 

And  you  shall  show  me  all  your  nice  new  things  — • 
That  quadrant  —  and  the  anemometer  ; 
And  oh,  that  darling,  darling  dumpy-level 
I've  heard  so  much  about ! 

Lydia.  .  My  love,  I  see 

You've  got  another  new  theodolite. 
(aside  to  CHLOE)  That's  the  fifteenth  this  month  ! 

The  one  I  use 

Went  out  of  fashion  half  a  year  ago  ! 
Oh,  I've  a  bit  of  scandal !     What  d'you  think  ? 
Melissa  found  a  billet-doux,  concealed 


232  THE  PRINCESS. 

In  that  Egyptian  mummy  we  unrolled 
Last  night.     Just  think  of  that ! 

Enter  MELISSA,/>W#  bridge,  running. 

Melissa.  I  say,  my  dear, 

I  have  such  news  for  you  !     I've  just  been  shown 
The  robe  for  doctors  of  divinity. 
Oh,  it's  the  sweetest  thing  !  —  Magenta  silk, 
Trimmed  with  chinchilla,  bouillonnt  behind, 
Gored  to  the  figure  though ;  and  on  the  skirt, 
Two  rows  of  Cluny  lace  as  deep  as  that ! 

Chloe.  Oh  my  !  how  lovely  ! 

Melissa.  Then  the  trencher  cap 

Is  amber  satin,  trimmed  with  Cluny  lace 
And  rows  of  pearls  ;  and  round  the  outer  edge 
The  tiniest,  tiniest  rosebuds  in  the  world  ! 

Ada  (to  CHLOE).  It's  much  more  lovely  than  the 

legal  gown  — 

Green  grenadine,  with  ruchings  down  the  front, 
That  we  shall  wear. 

Chloe  (pouting).  '    I  shall  give  up  the  law 
And  go  into  the  church  !     I've  always  felt 
A  serious  longing  for  a  pastor's  life ; 
Besides,  I'm  dark,  and  look  a  fright  in  green  ! 

Sacka.  Take   care,  here's  Lady  Blanche.     How 
stern  she  looks  ! 

Enter  LADY  BLANCHE,  L.,  GIRLS  study  vigomisly. 

Blanche.  Attention,  ladies,  while  I  read  to  you 
The  Princess  Ida's  list  of  punishments  : 


THE  PRINCESS.  233 

The  first  is  Sacharissa.     She's  expelled. 

AIL  Expelled! 

Blanche.  Expelled — because,  although  she 

knew 

No  man  of  any  kind  may  see  these  halls, 
She  dared  to  bring  a  set  of  chessmen  here ! 

Sacka.  (in  tears).  I  meant  no  harm — they're  only 
men  of  wood ! 

Blanche.     They're  men  with  whom  you  give  each 

other  mate  — 
And  that's  enough  !     The  next  is  Sylvia 

Sylvia.  Oh ! 

Blanche.  Sylvia  is  rusticated  for  a  month 
Because,  in  spite  of  all  our  college  rules 
Upon  the  point,  she  dared  to  put  three  rows 
Of  lace  insertion  round  her  graduate's  gown ! 
Phyllis  will  lose  three  terms,  for  yesterday, 
When,  looking  through  her  drawing  book,  I  found 
A  sketch  of  a  perambulator ! 

All  (shocked}.  Oh ! 

Blanche.  Double  perambulator,  shameless  girl ! 
That's  all  at  present.     Now,  attention  please, 
Your  principal,  the  Princess,  comes  to  give 
Her  usual  inaugural  address, 
To  those  young  ladies  who  joined  yesterday. 

(March.  — Enter  the  PRINCESS,  over  bridge y  attended 
by  eight  " daughters  of  the  plow"  All  cour 
tesy  profoundly} 

Princess.  Women  of  Adamant  —  fair  neophytes, 

20* 


234  THE  PRINCESS. 

Who  pant  for  the  instruction  we  can  give, 
Attend,  while  I  unfold  a  parable : 
The  elephant  is  stronger  than  the  man, 
Yet  man  subdues  him.     Why  ?     The  elephant 
Is  elephantine  everywhere  but  here  (tapping  fore- 
he  ad\ 

And  Man,  who's  brain  is  to  the  elephant's 
As  Woman's  brain  to  Man's  —  that's  rule  of  three  — 
Conquers  the  foolish  giant  of  the  woods, 
As  Woman,  in  her  turn,  shall  conquer  Man. 
In  mathematics  Woman  leads  the  way ! 
The  narrow-minded  pedant  still  believes 
That   two   and   two   make  four !      Why,    we   can 

prove  — 

We  women,  household  drudges  as  we  are  — 
That   two   and   two    make    five  —  or   three  —  or 

seven  — 

Or  five-and-twenty,  as  the  case  demands ! 
Finance  ?     Why,  I've  heard  clever  men  declare, 
Their  bankers'  balance  being  overdrawn, 
They  don't  know  where  to  turn  for  ready  cash, 
Yet  willfully  ignoring  all  the  while 
That  remedy  unfailing  —  draw  a  check  ! 
Diplomacy  ?     The  wily  diplomate 
Is  absolutely  helpless  in  our  hands  : 
He  wheedles  monarchs  —  Woman  wheedles  him ! 
Logic  ?     Why,  tyrant  man  himself  admits 
It's  waste  of  time  to  argue  with  a  woman ! 
Then  we  excel  in  social  qualities  — 
Though  man  professes  that  he  holds  our  sex 


THE  PRINCESS.  235 

In  utter  scorn,  I'll  undertake  to  say 

If  you  could  read  the  secrets  of  his  heart, 

He'd  rather  be  alone  with  one  of  you 

Than  with  five  hundred  of  his  fellow-men ! 

In  all  things  we  excel.     Believing  this, 

Five  hundred  maidens  here  have  sworn  to  place 

Their  foot  upon  his  neck.     If  we  succeed, 

We'll  treat  him  better  than  he  treated  us, 

But  if  we  fail  —  oh  then  let  hope  fail  too  ! 

Let  no  one  care  one  penny  how  she  looks ! 

Let  red  be  worn  with  yellow  —  blue  with  green, 

Crimson  with  scarlet  —  violet  with  blue ! 

Let  all  your  things  misfit,  and  you  yourselves 

At  inconvenient  moments  come  undone ! 

Let  hair-pins  lose  their  virtue  ;  let  the  hook 

Disdain  the  fascination  of  the  eye,  — 

The  bashful  button  modestly  evade 

The  soft  embraces  of  the  button  hole  ! 

Let  old  associations  all  dissolve, 

Let  Swan  secede  from  Edgar  —  Grant  from  Cask, 

Sewell  from  Cross  —  Lewis  from  Allenby  — 

In  other  words,  let  Chaos  come  again ! 

Who  lectures  in  the  Upper  Hall  to-day  ? 

Blanche.  I,  madam,  on  Abstract  Philosophy. 
There,  I  propose  considering  at  length 
Three  points  —  the  Is,  the  Might  Be,  and  the  Must. 
Whether  the  Is,  from  being  actual  fact, 
Is  more  important  than  the  vague  Might  Be, 
Or  the  Might  Be,  from  taking  wider  scope, 
Is,  for  that  reason,  greater  than  the  Is, 


236  THE  PRINCESS. 

And  lastly,  how  the  Is  and  Might  Be  stand 
Compared  with  the  inevitable  Must. 

Prin.  The  subject's  deep  —  how  do  you  treat  it, 
pray  ? 

Blanche.  Madam,  I  take  three  Possibilities, 
And  strike  a  balance  then  between  the  three, 
As  thus — the  Princess  Ida  Is  our  head  — 
The  Lady  Psyche  Might  Be  —  Lady  Blanche  — 
Neglected  Blanche  —  inevitably  Must. 
Given  these  three  hypotheses  —  to  find 
The  actual  betting  against  each  of  them ! 
Come,  girls !  \Exeunt  LADY  BLANCHE  and  STUDENTS. 

Prin.  (looking  after  her}.  Ambitious  fool.     And 

do  you  think  you  can 

Provide  this  college  with  a  head.     Go,  go  ! 
Provide  yourself  with  one  —  you  want  it  more! 

Enter  LADY  PSYCHE,  over  bridge,  conducting  HILA- 
RION,  FLORIAN,  and  CYRIL. 

Lady  P.  Here  is  the  Princess  Ida's  favorite  grove, 
And  here's  the  Princess.  (To  PRINCESS.)  These  are 

ladies  three 
Who  join  our  College. 

Hilar.  (aside  to  CYRIL).  Gods  !  how  beautiful ! 

Prin.  What  special  study  do  you  seek,  my  friend  ? 

Hilar.  (enraptured}.  Madam,  I  come  that  I  may 

learn  to  live, 
For,  if  I  come  not  here,  I  die  ! 

Prin.  (laughing}.  Indeed  ? 

Your  case  is  desperate  !     We  welcome  you. 


THE  PRINCESS.  237 

We  meet  at  luncheon  —  until  then,  farewell ! 

[Exit  PRINCESS. 

Flori.  (aside  to  HILARION).  When  Psyche  sees 

my  face,  I'm  confident 
She'll  recognize  her  brother  Florian. 
Let's  make  a  virtue  of  necessity, 
Arid  trust  our  secret  to  her  gentle  care. 

(HILARION  assents?) 

(aloud)  Psyche!  Why  don't  you  know  me — Florian  ? 

(PSYCHE  amazed.) 

Psyche.  Why,  Florian  ! 

Flori.  My  sister ! 

Psyche.  Oh,  my  dear, 

What  are  you  doing  here  —  and  who  are  these  ? 

Hilar.  I  am  that  Prince  Hilarion  to  whom 
Your  Princess  is  betrothed  —  I  come  to  claim 
Her  promised  love  —  your  brother  Florian,  here, 
And  Cyril  —  come  to  see  me  safely  through. 

Psyche.  The  Prince  Hilarion !  —  Cyril  too  !  How 

strange  ! 
My  earliest  playfellows ! 

Hilar.  (astonished).  Why  let  me  look  ! 
Are  you  that  learned  little  Psyche  who 
At  school  alarmed  her  mates  because  she  called 
A  buttercup  "ranunculus  bulbosus  "  ? 

Cyril.  Are  you  indeed  that  Lady  Psyche,  who 
At  children's  parties  drove  the  conjurer  wild, 
Explaining  all  his  tricks  before  he  did  them  ? 

Hilar.  Are  you  that  learned  little  Psyche,  who 
At  dinner  parties  brought  into  dessert 


238  THE  PRINCESS. 

Would  tackle  visitors  with  "you  don't  know 
Who  first  determined  longitude  —  I  do  — 
Hipparchus  'twas,  B.C.  one  sixty  three  ! " 
Are  you  indeed  that  little  Psyche  then  ? 

Psyche.  That  small  phenomenon  in  truth  am  I ! 
But  gentlemen,  'tis  death  to  enter  here  — 
My  vow  will  make  me  speak.     What  shall  I  do  ? 
This  palace  is  a  rat  trap  —  we  the  bait  — 
And  you  the  foolish  victims  ! 

Cyril.  Be  it  so  — 

A  prisoned  rat,  before  he  dies  the  death, 
Has  liberty  to  nibble  at  the  bait !  (kisses  her}. 

Psyche.  Forbear,    sir  —  pray  —  you    know    not 

what  you  do ! 
We  have  all  promised  to  renounce  mankind. 

Hilar.  But  on  what  grounds  do  you,  fair  Psyche, 

base 
This  senseless  resolution  ? 

Psyche.  Senseless  ?  No ! 

It's  based  upon  the  grand  hypothesis 
That  as  the  Ape  is  undeveloped  Man, 
So  Man  is  undeveloped  Woman. 

Hilar.  Then, 

This,  of  all  others,  is  the  place  for  us  ! 

Enter  MELISSA  unperceived,  at  back ;  she  listens  in 
astonishment. 

If  Man  is  only  undeveloped  Woman, 
We  men,  if  we  work  very  hard  indeed, 
And  do  our  utmost  to  improve  ourselves  — 


THE  PRINCESS.  239 

May  in  good  time  be  women !     Though  I  own 
Up  to  this  point  (as  far  as  I'm  aware) 
The  metamorphosis  has  not  commenced. 

Melissa,  (coming  dowii).     Oh,  Lady  Psyche  !  — 

Psyche,  (startled).    What  —  you  heard  us,  then  ? 
Oh,  all  is  lost ! 

Melissa.  Not  so  ;  I'll  breathe  no  word. 

(Advancing  in  astonishment  to  FLORIAN.) 
How  marvelously  strange !     And  are  you  then, 
Indeed,  young  men  ? 

Flori.  Well,  yes  —  just  now  we  are ; 

But  hope,  by  dint  of  study,  to  become, 
In  course  of  time,  young  women ! 

Melissa  (eagerly).  No  !  no  !  no  ! 

Oh,  don't  do  that !     Is  this  indeed  a  man  ? 
I've  often  heard  of  them,  but  till  this  day 
Never  set  eyes  on  one.     They  told  me  men 
Were  hideous,  idiotic,  and  deformed ! 
They're  quite  as  beautiful  as  women  are ! 
(patting  FLORIAN'S  cheek)     Their  cheeks  have  not 

that  pulpy  softness  wtp  :h 
One  gets  so  weary  of  in  womankind ! 
Their  features  are  more  marked,  —  and  oh  !  their 
chins  (feeling  his  chin) 

How  curious ! 

Flori.  I  fear  it's  rather  rough. 

Melissa.  Oh,  don't  apologize  —  I  like  it  so  ! 
But  I  forgot ;  my  mother,  Lady  Blanche, 
Is  coming  —  and  her  eyes  are  very  keen  — 
She  will  detect  you,  sir  ! 


24o  THE  PRINCESS. 

Hilar.  Oh,  never  fear  ! 

We  saw  her  ladyship  an  hour  ago  ; 
She  seemed  to  have  suspicions  of  our  sex, 
And  showed  us  robes,  and  gave  us  needlework, 
As  though  to  test  us.     Well,  we  did  the  work 
Like  seamstresses  —  and  named  the  various  stuffs, 
As  if  we'd  spent  a  full  apprenticeship 
At  Swan  and  Edgar's  ! 

Enter  LADY  BLANCHE.     Exeunt  the  three  GENTLE 
MEN  with  LADY  PSYCHE. 

Blanche  (aside  to  MELISSA).    Here,    Melissa  — 

hush ! 
Those  are  the  three  new  students  ? 

Melissa  (confused}.  Yes,  they  are  — 

They're  charming  girls ! 

Blanche  (sarcastically).  Particularly  so  ! 
So  graceful,  and  so  very  womanly  ; 
So  skilled  in  all  a  girl's  accomplishments  ! 

Melissa  (confused}.  Yes  very  skilled  ! 

Blanche.  You  stupid  little  fool ! 

Awhile  ago,  I  placed  before  their  eyes, 
Some  Cluny  lace  —  they  called  it  Valenciennes  — 
Hemming  is  stitching  —  so  at  least  they  say — 
A  gusset  is  a  gore  —  a  tuck's  a  flounce  — 
Merino's  cotton  —  linen's  calico  — 
Poplin  is  silk,  and  rep  is  corduroy ! 
1  bade  them  hem  a  pocket  handkerchief  — 
TJicy  placed  their  thimbles  on  their  forefingers  / 
And  set  about  their  work  as  clumsily 


THE  PRINCESS.  241 

As  if  they  had  been  men,  in  girls'  disguise ! 

Melissa   (trembling}.    You   surely  wrong   them, 
Mother  dear,  for  see  —  (picking  up  a  case 
from  floor) 
Here  is  an  etui  dropped  by  one  of  them  — 

Containing  scissors,  needles,  and 

BlancJie  (taking   it  from  her,  and    opening  it). 

Cigars !  !  ! 

Why  these  are  men  !    And  you  knew  this,  you  cat ! 
Melissa.  Oh,  spare  them  —  they  are  gentlemen, 

indeed, 

The  Prince  Hilarion — betrothed  long  since 
To  Princess  Ida  —  with  two  trusted  friends  ! 
Consider,  Mother,  he's  her  husband  now ! 
And  has  been,  twenty  years  !     Consider,  too, 

(insidiously) 

You're  only  second  here — you  should  be  first  — 
Assist  the  Prince's  plan,  and  when  he  gains 
The  Princess  Ida's  hand,  you  will  be  first ! 
You  will  design  the  fashions  —  think  of  that ! 
And  always  serve  out  all  the  punishments ! 
The  scheme  is  harmless,  Mother  —  wink  at  it ! 
Blanche.  The  prospect's  tempting !     Well,  well, 

well,  I'll  try  — 

Though  I've  not  winked  at  any  thing  for  years ! 
'Tis  but  one  step  towards  my  destiny  — 
The  mighty  Must !     Inevitable  Shall ! 

[Exit  LADY  BLANCHE. 
Melissa.  Saved  for  a  while,  at  least ! 


242  THE  PRINCESS. 


Enter  FLORIAN. 

Flori.  Melissa  here  ? 

Melissa.  Oh,  sir,  you  must  away  from  this  at  once, 
My  mother  guessed  your  sex  —  it  was  my  fault, 
I  blushed  and  stammered  so,  that  she  exclaimed : 
"  Can  these  be   men"   (then    seeing   this)   "Whv 

these " 

"  Are  men  !  "  she  would  have  added,  but  "  are  men  " 
Stuck  in  her  throat !     She  keeps  your  secret,  sir, 
For  reasons  of  her  own  ;  but  fly  from  this, 
And  take  me  with  you  —  that  is  —  no,  not  that ! 

Flori.  I'll   go  —  but    not   without    you.       (Bell.) 
Why,   what's   that? 

Melissa.  The  luncheon  bell. 

Flori.  I'll  wait  for  luncheon,  then. 

See,  here's  Hilarion  with  the  stern  Princess, 
And  Cyril  with  my  sister  Psyche,  too. 

Enter  CYRIL  with  PSYCHE,  and  HILARION  with 
PRINCESS,  LADY  BLANCHE,  also  all  the  other 
GIRLS,  over  bridge,  bearing  luncheon,  which  is 
spread.  They  all  sit  down  and  eat,  CYRIL 
drinking  freely. 

Prin.  You  say  you  know  the  Court  of  Hildebrand  ? 
There  is  a  prince  there  —  I  forget  his  name. 

Hilar.  Hilarion  ? 

Prin.  Exactly.     Is  he  well  ? 

Hilar.  If  it  is  well  to  droop  and  pine  and  mope  — 
To  sigh,  "  Oh,  Ida !  Ida  !  "  all  day  long  — 
"  Ida  !  my  love  !  my  life  !     Oh,  come  to  me  !  "  — 


THE  PRINCESS.  243 

If  it  is  well,  I  say,  to  do  all  this, 
Then  Prince  Hilarion  is  very  well. 

Prin.  He  breathes  our  name  ?     Well,  it's  a  com 
mon  one ! 
And  is  the  booby  comely  ? 

Hilar.  Pretty  well. 

I've  heard  it  said  that  if  I  dressed  myself 
In  Prince  Hilarion's  clothes  (supposing  this 
Consorted  with  my  maiden  modesty), 
I  might  be  taken  for  Hilarion's  self. 
But  what  is  this  to  you  or  me,  who  think 
Of  all  mankind  with  unconcealed  contempt  ? 

Prin.  Contempt  ?    Why,  damsel,  when  I  think  of 

man, 
Contempt  is  not  the  word  ! 

Cyril  (getting  tipsy).  I'm  sure  of  that ; 

Or,  if  it  is,  it  surely  should  not  be  ! 

Hilar.  (to  CYRIL).  Be  quiet,  idiot,  or  they'll  find 
us  out ! 

Cyril.  The  Prince  Hilarion's  a  goodly  lad  ! 

Prin.    ¥021  know  him,  then  ? 

Cyril.  I  rather  think  I  dp  ! 

We  were  inseparables. 

Prin.  Why,  what's  this  ? 

You  loved  him  then  ?  (horrified) . 

Cyril.  We  did  —  and  do  —  all  three  ! 

And  he  loves  us  sincerely  in  return ! 

Hilar.   (confused}.  Madam,  she  jests  —  (aside  to 
CYRIL.)     Remember  where  you  are  ! 

Cyril.  Jests  ?     Not  at  all  —  why,  bless  my  heart 
alive, 


244  THE  PRINCESS. 

You  and  Hilarion,  when  at  the  Court, 
Rode  the  same  horse  ! 

Prin.  Astride  ? 

Cyril.  Of  course  —  why  not  ? 

Wore   the   same  clothes  —  and   once   or  twice,  I 

think 
Got  tipsy  in  the  same  good  company ! 

Prin.  Well,  these  are  nice  young  ladies,  on  my 

word  — 
Cyril  (to   FLORIAN).  Don't  you   remember  that 

old  laughing  song, 

That  he  and  we  would  troll  in  unison, 
At  the  Three  Pigeons  —  just  when  daylight  broke? 
I'll  give  it  you  ! 

Song,  CYRIL,  Air — Laughing  Song  from  "  Manon 
Lescaut" 

A  young  and  earnest  reader, 

Once  with  a  special  pleader, 

Was  reading  for  the  bar, 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 
A  budding  luminary, 
Particularly  wary, 
As  lovers  often  are, 
Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 
He  met  a  lady  bright,  ha  !  ha  ! 
'Twas  very  late  at  night,  ha  !  ha  ! 
There  shone  no  moon  nor  star, 

Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 
Her  head  lay  on  his  shoulder, 


THE  PRINCESS.  245 

And  what  d'you  think  he  told  her  ?  — 

You'll  never  guess,  I  know. 
I  scarcely  like  to  tell  you, 
For  fear  it  should  repel  you  — 
Come,  whisper,  whisper  low ! 

No  !  no  !  no  !  no  !  no  !  no  !  no  !  no  ! 
Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 

They  threaded  many  mazes, 
Of  buttercups  and  daisies, 
They  wandered  very  far, 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 
So  amiable  he  found  her, 
He  put  his  arms  around  her, 
And  she  opposed  no  bar, 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 
He  squeezed  her  little  fin,  ha  !  ha  ! 
He  chucked  her  little  chin,  ha  !  ha  ! 
And  christened  her  his  star, 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 
Her  head  lay  on  his  shoulder, 
And  what  d'you  think  he  told  her  ? 

You'll  never  guess,  I  know  — 
I'll  hazard  it  and  tell  you, 
Although  it  may  repel  you  — 
Come,  whisper,  whisper  low  ! 

No  !  no  !  no  !  no  !  no  !  no  !  no  !  no  ! 
Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 
(After  song  he  lights  a  cigarette. ) 

Prin.  Infamous  creature  —  get  you  hence  away  ! 

21* 


246  THE  PRINCESS. 

Hilar.  Dog !     Here  is  something  more  to  sing 
about !  (Strikes  him) 

Cyril  (sobered}.  Hilarion  —  are  you  mad  ? 
Prm.  (astonished}.  Hilarion  ?     Help  ! 

Why  these  are  men !    Lost !    Lost !  betrayed  !    un 
done  !  (punning  on  to  bridge). 
Girls,  get  you  hence  —  man-monsters,  if  you  dare 
Approach   one   step  —  I  —  ah  !    (loses  balance  and 

falls) 

Psyche.  Oh  !  save  her,  sir  ! 

Blanche.  It's  useless,  sir,  you'll  only  catch  your 
death.  (HILARION  springs  in} 

Sacha.  He  catches  her  — 

Melissa.  And  now  he  lets  her  go  — 

Again  she's  in  his  grasp  — 

PsycJie.  And  now  she's  not ! 

He  seizes  her  back  hair  — 

Blanche.  And  it  comes  off ! 

Psyche.  No  —  no  —  she's  saved  !     She's    saved  ! 

She's  saved  !     She's  saved  ! 
(HILARION  is  seen  swimming  with  the  PRINCESS 
in  one  arm  —  he  swims  to  a  bank  and  tlie 
PRINCESS  and  he  are  brought  to  land} 
Prin.  You've  saved  our  lives  and  so  have  saved 

your  own, 
But  leave  this  palace  —  men  in  women's  clothes  ! 

Enter  LYDIA,  running. 

Why,  what's  the  matter  now  ? 

Lydia.  King  Hildebrand, 


THE  PRINCESS.  247 

Holding  your  father  captive,  sends  to  say 
That  if  Hilarion  suffers  any  harm, 
Your  father's  life  will  pay  the  penalty, 
Moreover  —  if  you  do  not  yield  yourself, 
According  to  the  tenor  of  your  oath, 
He  will  attack  you  ere  to-morrow's  dawn  — 
And  force  compliance  ! 

Prin.  Will  he  so,  indeed  ? 

We'll  teach  these   men  a  lesson.    (To  HILARION.) 

Get  you  gone ! 

You  saved  our  lives  —  we  thank  you  for  it  —  go  ! 
Arm,  Amazons  !     We'll  show  these  gentlemen, 
How  nobly  Woman  vindicates  her  claim 
To  equal  individuality  ! 
Arm  !     Arm  !     This  is  our  opportunity.  • 
'The  three   GENTLEMEN   are  thrust  forth    by   the 
AMAZONS.     Tableau. 

SCENE  FOURTH.  —  Hildebrand's  Camp  before  Idas 
Castle. 

Enter  HILDEBRAND  and  GAMA. 

Hilde.  The  Princess  Ida  still  holds  out,  although 
Our  camp  is  fairly  pitched  before  her  walls. 
King  Gama,  if  Hilarion  comes  not  back 
All  safe  and  sound,  you'll  surely  suffer  death ! 
Your  head  for  his  ! 

Gama.  The  stakes  are  poorly  matched  : 

It's  Lombard  Street  against  a  China  orange ! 

Hilde.  In  the  mean  time,  pray  make  yourself  at 
home, 


248  THE  PRINCESS. 

Direct  my  army  as  it  were  your  own. 
On  every  matter  that  concerns  the  state, 
Your  orders  give  ;  —  they  will  not  be  obeyed, 
But  that  don't  matter ! 

Gama.  Don't  it  ? 

Hilde.  Not  a  jot ! 

The  ecstasy  of  absolute  command 
Is  seriously  dashed  when  you  reflect, 
That  for  all  consequences  that  ensue, 
You  by  the  world  are  held  responsible  ! 
But  here,  where  all  are  bound  to  hear  your  word 
With  every  outward  token  of  respect, 
They  systematically  disobey  it, 
Your  power  of  high  command  is  just  as  great, 
The  consequences  absolutely  nil. 

Enter  ATHO. 

Atho.  My  liege,  three  gentlemen  await  without, 
Attended  by  a  troop  of  soldiery.  (Gives  note). 
Gama  (reads).  u  The  Princes  Arac,  Guron,  Scyn- 

thius, 

King  Gama's  sons,  desire  that  you  will  set 
Their  father  free."  (To  ATHO.)  Admit  these  gentle 
men.  [Exit  ATHO. 
My  sons  !     That's  brave  ! 

Enter  ARAC,  SCYNTHIUS,  and  GURON. 

Hilde.  What  would  you,  gentlemen  ? 

Arac.  What  would  we  ?     Why   look  you,  King 
Hildebrand  — 


THE  PRINCESS.  249 

You  hold  our  father  in  unkingly  bonds, 
Our  sister  you  beleaguer  in  her  home, 
You  threaten  to  lay  waste  our  richest  lands, 
And  then  you  coolly  asl^us,  "  What  would  we  ? " 

Guron.  We   come   to   claim  our  father  at  your 
hands. 

Scynthius.  We  come  to  save  our  sister  Ida  from 
The  rude  assault  of  savage  soldiery. 
Why  they  are  girls  —  mere  girls  —  and  should  be 

stormed 
As  other  girls  are  stormed,  if  stormed  at  all ! 

Hilde.  As  other  girls  are  stormed  so  shall  they  be ; 
We'll  use  no  cannon,  bayonet,  or  sword, 
For  such  ungentlemanly  arguments  — 
Convincing  though  they  be  —  would  but  convince 
These  women  'gainst  their  will !     We'll  witch  them 

forth 

With  love  songs,  odes,  and  idle  fripperies, 
Such  as  a  woman  can  not  long  withstand. 
Stay,  you  shall  see  — 

Enter  ATHO. 

Atho.  All  is  prepared,  my  liege 

To  storm  the  walls 

Hilde.  Then  let  the  siege  commence  ! 

Enter  FIRST  OFFICER. 

Who  leads  the  serenading  party,  eh  ? 
First  Officer.  Sir  Michael  Costa  — 
Hilde.  Good  !  the  light  guitars 


250  THE  PRINCESS. 

Fall  in  at  six  —  the  King's  own  baritones, 
Led  by  Sir  Santley  — 

First  Officer.  He's  not  knighted,  sir  ! 

Hilde.  He  shall  be,  then  —  they  will  parade  at 
five.  [Exit  FIRST  OFFICER. 

Enter  SECOND  OFFICER. 

Second  Officer.  Who  leads  the  scaling  party,  sir  ? 

Hilde.  Of  course 

The  first  light  tenors  —  they  can  highest  go. 

[Exit  SECOND  OFFICER. 

At/to.  And  who  shall  first  climb  up  the  outer  wall, 
And  reconnoiter  what  goes  on  within  ? 

Hilde.  Some  tenor,  fool,  who  can  "  go  up  to  see  !  " 

[Exit  ATHO. 

Let  all  be  furnished  with  their  photographs, 
And  scatter  them  among  these  amazons. 
Bid  the  director  of  the  poets  direct 
And  post  five  hundred  valentines,  and  see 
They  get  them  by  to-night's  delivery. 
Go,  tell  the  gallant  lady,  who  commands 
The  horse  brigade  of  royal  milliners, 
To  place  five  hundred  toilet  tables  out 
Within  full  view  of  Princess  Ida's  walls. 
Upon  them  place  five  hundred  mirrors  —  then 
Lay  out  five  hundred  robes  of  French  design ; 
And  if  they  still  hold  out  they're  more  than  women ! 
[Exeunt  OFFICERS,  GAMA,  ARAC,  SCYNTHIUS,  and 
GURON. 

King.  If  all  this  fails,  I  have  a  deadlier  scheme, 


THE  PRINCESS.  251 

Five  hundred  waltzing  bachelors  —  tried  men, 
Who  can  waltz  forwards  —  backwards  —  anyhow  — 
Shall  twirl  and  twist  before  their  dazzled  eyes, 
Thrumming  soft  music  on  a  light  guitar. 

Song  —  KING     HILDEBRAND,    Air,     "  Largo    al 
Factotum" 

Like  a  teetotum  with  a  guitar  — 

Just  so ! 
La,  la,  la,  la  ! 
Bachelors  spin  at  'em  thus  from  afar  — 

Just  so  ! 
La,  la,  la,  la  ! 
Oh,  tickle  their  vanity  ; 
Oh,  never  be  chary, 
Oh,  flatter  your  fairy, 
Ever  unwary, 

Tickle  it,  ah ! 
Bravo  bravissimo, 
Generalissimo. 

Serve  her  it,  ah  ! 
Flatter  her  beauty, 
With  an  acute  eye, 
Say  it's  your  duty, 

Call  her  a  star ! 
Sneer  at  another, 
Coddle  her  mother, 
Butter  her  brother, 
Ever  so  far ! 
La,  la,  la,  la  ! 


252  THE  PRINCESS. 

Load  her  with  frippery, 
Glovery,  slippery, 

Cleverly  planned,  no  going  too  far  ! 
Marabout  feather, 

Gossamer  airy, 
Fastened  together, 
Give  to  your  fairy. 

La,  la,  la,  la  ! 
Oh,  tickle  her  vanity, 
Oh,  never  be  chary, 
Oh,  flatter  your  fairy, 
Ever  unwary, 

Tickle  it,  ah  ! 
Marry  her  merrily, 
Change  it  all,  verily  ; 
Snapping  and  wrangling, 
Jingling  and  jangling, 
Snarling  and  snapping, 
Rubbing  and  rapping. 
"  Why  are  you  mum  to  me  ? 
"  Why  don't  you  come  to  me  ? 
"  Why  are  you  mum  to  me  ? 
"  Why  don't  you  come  to  me  ? 
"  Quicker,  oh  !  quicker,  oh  !  quicker,  oh ! " 
My  goodness  !  my  gracious  ! 

A  row,  sir ! 
Pucker  your  brow,  sir, 

Pucker  it,  ah  ! 

Pucker  it,  ah ! 
Lick  her,  oh,  no  more  ! 


THE  PRINCESS.  253 

Quicker,  oh,  "  The  door  !  " 
Set  it  ajar! 
Light  a  cigar ! 
Set  it  ajar ! 
Light  a  cigar ! 
Giver  her  a  sou ! 
Bid  her  adoo ! 
Give  her  a  sou ! 
Bid  her  adoo ! 
Bravo  bravissimo, 
Finish  your  capering. 
Like  a  teetotum 
With  a  guitar ! 
With  a  guitar ! 
With  a  guitar ! 
Bravo  bravissimo, 
Generalissimo ! 
Take  her  and  marry  her, 
Worry  her,  harry  her  ; 
Oh,  you  may  carry  her 

Ever  so  far ! 
Just  like  a  teetotum 
With  a  guitar ! 

Enter  ATHO. 

Atho.  My  liege,  I  bring  good  news,  your  plan 

succeeds. 

Three  ladies  of  the  Princess  Ida's  band 
Are  coming  towards  your  camp. 

Hilde.  The  mirrors  did  it] 


254  THE  PRINCESS. 

Admit  them. 

Enter  HILARION,  CYRIL  and  FLORIAN,  still  in 
women's  clothes. 

Why  —  Hilarion  !  Cyril  too  ! 
And  Florian  !  dressed  as  women.     Ho  !  ho  !  ho  ! 

(all  jeer  them\ 

Hilar.  We  gained  admission  to  fair  Ida's  halls, 
By  this  disguise  —  We  were  detected  though, 
And  should  have  suffered  death,  but  that  she  knew, 
In  killing  us,  she  killed  her  father  too  ! 

Gama  (in  high  glee).  Here,  set  me  free  !  Hilarion 

safe  again  — 
Is  this  indeed  Hilarion  ? 

Hilar.  Yes  it  is  — 

Gama.  Why  you  look  handsome  in  your  women's 

clothes, 

Stick  to  'em  —  man's  attire  becomes  you  not ! 
(to  FLORIAN  and  CYRIL)    And  you,  young  ladies, 

will  you  please  to  pray, 
King  Hildebrand  to  set  me  free  again  ? 
Hang  on  his  neck  and  gaze  into  his  eyes, 
Bring  all  your  woman's  wiles  to  bear  on  him. 
He  never  could  resist  a  pretty  face ! 

Cyril.  You  dog  !     Though  I  wear  woman's  garb, 

you'll  find 
My  sword  is  long  and  sharp. 

Gama.  Hush,  pretty  one ! 

Here's  a  virago  !     Here's  a  termagant ! 
If  length  and  sharpness  go  for  any  thing, 


THE  PRINCESS.  255 

You'll  want  no  sword  while  you  can  wag  your  tongue. 

Flori.  What  need  to  talk  of  swords  to  such  as  he  ? 
He's  old  and  crippled  —  (to  GAMA)  Oh,  if  you  were 

young, 

And  tolerably  straight  —  and  I  could  catch 
You  all  alone,  I'd  —  Ah  ! 

Gama  (bashfully).  Oh,  go  along, 

You  naughty  girl  — why,  I'm  a  married  man  ! 
But  I've  three  sons  —  see,  ladies  —  here  they  are  — 
Fine  fellows  —  young  and  muscular  and  brave. 
They'll  meet  you,  if  you  will.    Come,  what  d'ye  say  ? 

Arac.  Ay,  pretty  ones,  engage  yourselves  with  us, 
If  three  rude  warriors  who  have  spent  their  lives 
Hacking  at  enemies,  affright  you  not ! 

Hilar.  (to  GAMA).  Old  as  you  are,  I'd  wring  your 

shriveled  neck 
If  you  were  not  the  Princess  Ida's  father  ! 

Gama.  If  I  were  not  the  Princess  Ida's  father, 
And  so  had  not  her  brothers  for  my  sons, 
No  doubt  you'd  wring  my  neck  —  in  safety  too ! 

Hilar.  Enough !  I  speak  for  Florian  and  Cyril. 
Arac,  we  take  your  challenge  —  three  to  three  — 
So  that  it's  understood  that  Ida's  hand 
Depends  upon  the  issue. 

Arac.  There's  my  hand ; 

If  she  consents  not  —  sister  though  she  be 
We'll  raze  her  castle  to  the  very  ground ! 

\Exeunt. 


256  THE  PRINCESS. 

SCENE  FIFTH. — Inner  Gate  of  Castle  Adamant. 

All  the  LADY  STUDENTS  discovered — the  eight 
SERVANTS  as  Amazons  —  the  others  all  around. 
Flourish — Enter  PRINCESS  IDA,  followed  by 
LADY  BLANCHE. 

Prin.  Is  all  prepared  for  war  ?    We  have  to  meet 
Stern  bearded  warriors  in  fight  to-day. 
Wear  naught  but  what  is  necessary  to 
Preserve  your  dignity  before  their  eyes, 
And  give  your  limbs  full  play. 

BlancJie.                                  One  moment,  ma'am, 
Here  is  a  paradox  we  should  not  pass 
Without  inquiry.     We  are  prone  to  say, 
"  This  thing  is  Needful  —  that  Superfluous  "  — 
Yet  they  invariably  co-exist ! 
We  find  the  Needful  comprehended  in 
The  circle  of  the  grand  Superfluous ; 
While  the  Superfluous  can  not  be  bought 
Unless  you're  amply  furnished  with  the  Needful. 
These  singular  considerations  are 

Prin.  Superfluous,  yet  not  Needful  —  so,  you  see, 
These  terms  may  independently  exist. 
Women  of  Adamant,  we  have  to  show 
These  men  how  they  have  under-rated  us. 
Now  is  the  time  to  prove  our  titles  to 
The  highest  honors  they  monopolize. 
Now  is  the  time  to  prove  our  theory 
That  woman,  educated  to  the  work, 
Can  meet  man  face  to  face  on  his  own  ground, 


THE  PRINCESS.  257 

And  beat  him  there.    Now  let  us  set  to  work ! 
Where  is  our  lady  surgeon  ? 

Sacha.  Madam,  here  ! 

Prin.  We  shall  require  your  skill  to  heal   the 

wounds 
Of  those  that  fall. 

Sacha.  What !  heal  the  wounded  ? 

Prin.  Yes ! 

Sacha.  And  cut  off  real  live  legs  and  arms  ? 

Prin.  Of  course ! 

Sacha.  I  wouldn't  do  it  for  a  thousand  pounds  ! 

Prin.  Why,  how  is  this  ?    Are  you  faint-hearted, 

girl? 
You've  often  cut  them  off  in  theory. 

Sacha.  In  theory  I'll  cut  them  off  again 
With  pleasure,  and  as  often  as  you  like  — 
But  not  in  practice !  . 

Prin.  Coward,  get  you  hence  ! 

I've  craft  enough  for  that,  and  courage  too. 
I'll  do  your  work  !     My  Amazons,  advance  ! 
Why,  you   are   armed  with   spears  —  mere   gilded 

toys  ! 
Where  are  your  muskets,  pray  ? 

Ada.  Why,  please  you,  ma'am, 

We  left  them  in  the  armory,  for  fear 
That,  in  the  heat  and  turmoil  of  the  fight, 
They  might  go  off. 

Prin.  "  They  might ! "  Oh,  craven  souls, 

Go  off  yourselves  !     Thank  heaven,  I  have  a  heart 
That  quails  not  at  the  thought  of  meeting  men. 


258  THE  PRINCESS. 

I  will  discharge  your  muskets.     Off  with  you  ! 
Where's  my  bandmistress  ? 

Chloe.  Please  you,  ma'am,  the  band 

Do  not  feel  well,  and  can't  come  out  to-day ! 

Prin.  Why,  this  is  flat  rebellion  !     I've  no  time 
To  talk  to  them  just  now  !     But  happily 
I  can  play  several  instruments  at  once, 
And  I  will  drown  the  shrieks  of  those  that  fall 
With  trumpet  music  such  as  soldiers  love. 
How  stand  we  with  respect  to  gunpowder  ? 
My  Lady  Psyche  —  you  who  superintend 
The  lab'ratory,  where  your  class  compounds 
That  hideous  chemical  —  are  you  prepared 
To  blow  these  bearded  rascals  into  shreds  ? 

Psyche.  Why,  madam  — 

Prin.  Well  ? 

Psyche.  Let  us  try  gentler  means  — 

Treat  them  with  the  contempt  that  they  deserve. 
We  can  dispense  with  fulminating  grains 
While  we  have  eyes  with  which  to  flash  our  rage. 
We  can  dispense  with  villainous  saltpeter, 
While  we  have  tongues  with  which  to  blow  them  up. 
We  can  dispense,  in  short,  with  all  the -arts 
That  brutalize  the  practical  polemist. 

Prin.  (contemptuously}.  I  never  knew  a  more  dis 
pensing  chemist ! 

Away  !  away  !     I'll  meet  these  men  alone, 
For  all  my  women  have  deserted  me  ! 


THE  PRINCESS.  259 

Enter  MELISSA. 

Melissa.  Madam,  your  brothers  crave  an  audience. 

Prin.  My  brothers  ?     Why,  what  do  they  here  ? 

Melissa.  They  come 

To  fight  for  you. 

Prin.  Admit  them ! 

Blanche.  Infamous ! 

One's  brothers,  ma'am,  are  men  ! 

Prin.  So  I  have  heard  ; 

But  all  my  women  seem  to  fail  me  when 
I  need  them  most :  in  this  perplexity 
Even  one's  brothers  may  be  turned  to  use. 

Enter  ARAC,  GURON,  and  SCYNTHIUS. 
Arac.  My  sisters  ! 

Prin.  Arac,  Guron,  Scynthius,  too  ! 

(they  embrace.) 

Arac.  We  have  arranged  that  Prince  Hilarion 
And  his  two  followers  shall  fight  us  here  ; 
And  if  we  fall,  we've  promised  him  your  hand. 
Prin.  (sighing}.  So  be  it,  Arac  ;  brothers  though 

you  be, 
With   all  your  faults  you're  brave,  as   brutes   are 

brave. 

So  be  it  —  fight  them  here,  but   (aside  and  bash 
fully)  oh,  my  brother, 
Kill  whom  you  will,  but  spare  Hilarion  ! 
He  saved  my  life  ! 

Melissa  (aside  to  ARAC).  Oh,  save  me  Florian, 
He  is  her  brother  !  (indicating  PSYCHE.) 


260  THE  PRINCESS. 

Psyche  (aside  to  ARAC).  Oh,  spare  Cyril,  sir, 
You've  no  idea  what  jolly  songs  he  sings ! 

Arac.  Bah  !    I  can  spare  them  all —  I  want  them 

not ! 

But  here  they  come,  stand  back,  the  lists  prepare  — 
Get  you  within  those  walls,  poor  trembling  ones, 
And  see  that  no  one  interferes  with  us. 

Enter  HILARION,  CYRIL,  and  FLORIAN,  with  KINGS 
GAMA  and  HILDEBRAND  —  PRINCESS  and  LA 
DIES  retire  within  outer  wall,  and  grotip  them 
selves  on  battlements. 

Gama.  Come   boys,  we've   all   prepared,  begin  ! 

begin  ! 

Why  you  lack  mettle  !  —  Gad,  I'll  spur  you  up ! 
(To  ARAC)  Look,  Arac  —  there's  the  son  of  that 

vile  king, 

Who,  when  he  held  me  as  his  prisoner, 
Tormented  me  with  tortures  worse  than  death. 
/  Jiadrit  any  tiling  to  grumble  at ! 
He  found  out  what  particular  meats  I  loved, 
And  gave  me  them  —  the  very  choicest  wine  — 
The  costliest  robes  —  the  richest  rooms  were  mine. 
He  suffered  none  to  thwart  my  simplest  plan, 
And  gave  strict  orders  none  should  contradict  me. 
He  made  my  life  a  curse  !     Go  in  at  them  ! 
Avenge  your  father's  wrongs!  (To  HILARION)  And 

as  for  you 

(pointing  to  his  sons)  Here  are  three  princes,  sirs, 

who  stand  between 


THE  PRINCESS.  261 

You  and  your  happiness  —  so  cut  them  down  ! 
Give  them  no  mercy,  they  will  give  you  none. 
Come,  Prince  Hilarion,  begin,  begin  ! 
You've  this  advantage  over  warriors 
Who  kill  their  country's  enemies  for  pay, 
You  know  what  you  are  fighting  for  —  look  there ! 
(pointing  to  LADIES  on  battlements^) 
Hilar.  Come  on  ! 
Arac.  Come  on  ! 

Cyril.  Come  on  ! 

Scyn.  Come  on ! 

Flori.  Come  on ! 

(Desperate  fight  —  at    the    end,    HILARION, 
CYRIL,  and  FLORIAN  wound  ARAC,  GURON, 
and  SCYNTHIUS. 
Prin.  (entering  through  gate].  Hold  !  stay  your 

hands  !  —  we  yield  ourselves  to  you. 
Ladies,  my  brothers  all  lie  bleeding  there ! 
Bind  up  their  wounds  —  but  look  the  other  way. 
Is  this  the  end  ?     How  say  you,  Lady  Blanche  — 
Can  I  with  dignity  my  post  resign  ? 
And  if  I  do,  will  you  then  take  my  place  ? 

Blanche.  To  answer  this,  it's  meet  that  we  consult 
The  great  Potential  Mysteries  ;   I  mean 
The  five  Subjunctive  Possibilities  — 
The  May,  the  Might,  the  Would,  the  Could,  the 

Should. 

Can  you  resign  ?  The  prince  Might  claim  you  ;  if 
He  Might,  you  Could  —  and  if  you  Should,  I  Would  ! 
Prin.  I  thought  as  much.     Then  to  my  fate  I 
yield  — 


262  THE  PRINCESS. 

So  ends  my  cherished  scheme  !     Oh,  I  had  hoped 
To  band  all  women  with  my  maiden  throng, 
And  make  them  all  abjure  tyrannic  Man! 

Hilde.  A  noble  aim  ! 

Prin.  You  ridicule  it  now ; 

But  if  I  carried  out  this  glorious  scheme, 
At  my  exalted  name  Posterity 
Would  bow  in  gratitude  ! 

Hilde.  But  pray  reflect  — 

If  you  enlist  all  women  in  your  cause, 
And  make  them  all  abjure  tyrannic  Man, 
The  obvious  question  then  arises,  "  How 
Is  this  Posterity  to  be  provided  ? " 

Prin.  I  never  thought  of  that !  My  Lady  Blanche, 
How  do  you  solve  the  riddle  ? 

Blanche.  Don't  ask  me  — 

Abstract  Philosophy  won't  answer  it. 
Take  him  — he  is  your  Shall.     Give  in  to  Fate ! 

Prin.  And  you  desert  me  ?    I  alone  am  stanch  ! 

Hilar.  Madam,  you  placed  your  trust  in  woman  — 

well, 

Woman  has  failed  you  utterly  —  try  man, 
Give  him  one  chance,  it's  only  fair  —  besides, 
Women  are  far  too  precious,  too  divine 
To  try  unproven  theories  upon. 
Experiments,  the  proverb  says,  are  made 
On  humble  subjects  —  try  our  grosser  clay, 
And  mold  it  as  you  will ! 

Cyril.  Remember,  too, 

Dear  Madam,  if  at  any  time  you  feel 


><t5*rj 

-26 


THE  PRINCESS.  ft!  -1*263 

Aweary  of  the  Prince,  you  can  return 
To  Castle  Adamant,  and  rule  your  girls 
As  heretofore,  you  know. 

Prin.  And  shall  I  find 

The  Lady  Psyche  here  ? 

Psyche.  If  Cyril,  ma'am, 

Does  not  behave  himself,  I  think  you  will. 

Prin.  And  you,  Melissa,  shall  I  find  you  here  ? 

Melissa.  Madam,  however  Florian  turns  out, 
Unhesitatingly  I  answer,  No. 

Gama.  Consider  this,  my  love  :  if  your  mamma 
Had  looked  on  matters  from  your  point  of  view 
(I  wish  she  had),  why,  where  would  you  have  been  ? 

Lady  B.  There's  an  unbounded  field  of  specula 

tion, 
On  which  I  could  discourse  for  hours  ! 

Prin.  No  doubt  ! 

We  will  not  trouble  you.     Hilarion, 
I  have  been  wrong  —  I  see  my  error  now. 
Take  me,  Hilarion  —  "  We  will  walk  the  world 
Yoked  in  all  exercise  of  noble  end  ! 
And  so  through  those  dark  gates  across  the  wild 
That  no  man  knows  !  Indeed,  I  love  thee  —  Come  !  " 

Finale,  from  "  Le  Pont  des  Soupirs." 

Cyril.  Singers  know 

How  sweetly  at  a  piano 
A  tenor  and  soprano 
Together  sound. 

Chorus.  Singers  know,  &c, 


264  THE   PRINCESS. 

Hilar.  This  will  show 

That  men  and  women  verily 
Can  get  along  more  merrily 

Together  bound. 
Chorus.  This  will  show 

That  men  and  women  verily 
Can  get  along  more  merrily 

Together  bound ! 

Together  bound ! 

Together  bound ! 


THE   PALACE    OF   TRUTH 
qj  Camttrg, 


IN  THREE  ACTS. 


DRAMATIS    PERSONS. 

KING  PHANOR     MR.  BUCKSTONE. 

PRINCE  PHILAMIR        MR.  KENDAL. 

CHRYSAL  ...         MR.  EVERILL. 

ZORAM        MR.  CLARK. 

ARIST^US MR.  ROGERS. 

GELANOR MR.  BRAID. 

QUEEN  ALTEMIRE         MRS.  CHIPPENDALE. 

PRINCESS  ZEOLIDE       Miss  MADGE  ROBERTSON. 

MIRZA        Miss  CAROLINE  HILL. 

PALMIS       Miss  FANNY  WRIGHT. 

AZEMA       Miss  FANNY  GWYNNE. 

ACT    I. 

GARDENS  OF  KING  PHANOR'S  COUNTRY  HOUSE. 
MORNING. 

ACT   II. 

INTERIOR    OF  THE   PALACE   OF  TRUTH. 
NOON. 

ACT    III. 

THE  A  VENUE   OF  PALAIS. 
NIGHT. 

[  The  action  of  the  piece  takes  place  'within  the  space  of 
twenty- foiir  hours.] 


THE  PALACE  OF  TRUTH. 


ACT    I. 

SCENE.  —  Garden  of  KING  PHANOR'S  Country 
House.  KING  P^HANOR  discovered  with 
CHRYSAL,  ZORAM,  ARIST.^US,  and  PALMIS. 
ARISTAE  us  is  standing  sulkily  apart. 

As  the  curtain  rises,  KING  PHANOR  is  finishing  a 
recitation  which  he  is  accompanying  on  a  man 
dolin,  in  a  very  affected  manner. 

Phanor.  "  Oh,  I  would  not  —  no,  I  would  not  be 
there  ! " 

(ZORAM  and  CHRYSAL  applaud  vigorously^) 
Chrysal.  My  lord,  I  pray  you  read  it  once  again, 
My  ears  are  greedy  for  the  golden  sound. 
Phan.  Chrysal,  you  make  me  blush  ! 
Chrys.  My  lord,  a  blush 

Is  modesty's  sole  herald  —  and  true  worth 
Is  ever  modest.     Pray  you,  sir,  again ! 

Phan.  It's  a  poor  thing  —  a  string  of  platitudes  — 
Stale  metaphors  —  time-honored  similes. 
I'm  a  poor  poet,  gentlemen  ! 

267 


268  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Chrys.  I  swear 

There  never  lived  a  poet  till  now  ! 

Zoram.  And  then 

The  music  you  have  wedded  to  the  words 
(I  speak  of  this  with  some  authority) 
Shames,  in  its  flow  of  rhythmic  melody, 
The  counterpoint  of  Adam  de  la  Halle  ! 

Phan.   (bashfully}.  The  merit  is  not  altogether 

mine. 

I  wrote  the  music  —  but  I  did  not  make 
This  dainty  instrument.     Why,  who  could  fail 
To  charm,  with  such  a  mandolin  as  this  ? 

Zor.  Believe  me,  the  result  would  be  the  same, 
Whether  your  lordship  chose  to  play  upon 
The  simple  tetrachord  of  Mercury 
That  knew  no  diatonic  intervals, 
Or  the  elaborate  dis-diapason 
(Four  tetrachords,  and  one  redundant  note), 
Embracing  in  its  perfect  consonance 
All  simple,  double  and  inverted  chords  ! 

Phan.  (to  CHRYSAL).  A  wonderful  musician  — 

and  a  man 
Of  infinite  good  taste  ! 

Zor.  Why,  from  my  birth 

I  have  made  melope  and  counterpoint 
My  favorite  study. 

Phan.  And  you  really  care 

To  hear  my  work  again,  oh  melodist  ? 

Zor.  Again,  my  lord,  and  even  then  again ! 

Phan.     (recites).    "  When    pitch-incrusted    night 
aloft  prevails  ; 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  269 

"  When  no  still  goddess  through  the  mid-air  sails  ; 
"  When  scorpions  vomit  forth  their  poisonous  scum ; 
"  When  to  the  demon  tryst  gaunt  witches  come  ; 
"  When  noisome  pestilence  stalks  through  the  glen, 
"  Bellowing  forth  its  enmity  to  men ; 
"  When  ghastly  toads  scream  loudly  through  the  air ; 
"  Oh,  I  would  not  —  no,  I  would  not  be  there  !  " 

Chrys.  (in  raptures].  Why,  where' s  the  cunning 

of  the  sorcerer 

Placed  by  the  magic  of  such  words  as  these  ? 
"  When  pitch-incrusted  night  aloft  prevails  ;  " 
Why,  there's  an  epithet  might  make  day  night, 
And  shame  the  swallows  to  their  couching  place  ! 
"  When  no  still  goddess  through  the  mid-air  sails  !  " 
Why,  here's  a  blackness,  Zoram,  so  intense 
It  scares  the  very  deities  away ! 

P/ian.  (explaining).  "  Still  goddess  "    means  the 
moon. 

Chrys.  The  moon  —  my  lord  ? 

Of  course  —  the  moon  !     See  how,  in  ignorance, 
We  seek  upon  the  surface  of  the  wave 
For  pearls  that  lie  uncounted  fathoms  deep. 
The  darkness  frightens  e'en  the  moon  away  ! 
The  metaphor  is  perfect ! 

PJian.  (annoyed).  No,  no,  no! 

The  moon  has  not  yet  risen,  sir  !     The  moon 
Frightens  the  darkness  —  darkness  don't  fright  her! 
Why  sits  the  genial  Aristaeus  there 
All  solitary  ?     How  d'you  like  my  work  ? 
(Aside  to  CHRYSAL)  We'll  have  some  fun  with  him. 
23* 


270  THE   PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

(Aloud}  Your  verdict,  come  ! 

Arist.  I'm  blunt  and  honest.     I  can't  teach  my 

tongue 

To  lie,  as  Zoram  here,  and  Chrysal  do. 
I  tell  the  truth,  sir.     If  you  want  to  know 
My  estimate  of  what  you've  given  us, 
I  think  your  poetry  contemptible  — 
Your  melody,  my  lord,  beneath  contempt. 

Phan.  That's  rather  strong. 

Arist.  It's  strong,  my  lord,  but  true. 

I'm  blunt  —  outspoken.     If  I've  angered  you, 
So  much  the  worse  ;  I  always  speak  the  truth. 

Chrys.   Heed  not  the  yelping  of  this  surly  cur, 
Naught  satisfies  him,  Phanor  ! 

Arist.  There  you're  wrong, 

For  I  was  satisfied  to  hear  it  once ; 
'Twas  you  that  wanted  it  a  second  time ! 

Chrys.  Back  to  your  kennel,  sham  Diogenes  ! 

Arist.  I'm  no  Diogenes.     He  spent  his  life 
Seeking  an  honest  man.     /  live  in  courts. 

Zor.  My  lord,  I  pray  you  send  the  fellow  hence, 
For  he  and  we  are  always  out  of  tune. 
An  inharmonious  bracketing  of  notes, 
Whose  musical  extremes  don't  coalesce  : 
He's  sharp  and  we  are  flat. 

Arist.  Extremely  flat ! 

Chyrs.   He's  vinegar,  my  lord,  and  we  are  oil. 

Arist.  Oil  is  a  sickening  insipid  food 
Unless  it's  qualified  with  vinegar. 
I'm  rough  and  honest.     If  I've  angered  you, 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  271 

I'll  go. 

Phan.  No,  no,  you  have  not  angered  us. 
(Aside  to  ZORAM)  I  like  the  fellow's  humor — he 

may  rave  ! 

I'm  tired  of  hearing  truths,  so  let  him  lie  ! 
But  where's  Queen  Altemire  ? 

Chrys.  My  lord,  she  comes  — 

A  perfect  type  of  perfect  womanhood. 
The  dew  of  forty  summers  on  her  head 
Has  but  matured  her  beauty,  by  my  life  ! 
For  five-and-thirty  years,  a  bud  —  and  now 
A  rose  full  blown  ! 

Arist.  Say  over-blown. 

Phan.  What's  that  ? 

Arist.  My  lord,  the  Queen's  too  fat. 

Phan.  Well,  that  may  be, 

But  don't  you  tell  her  so.  Your  insolence 
Amuses  me  —  it  won't  amuse  the  Queen  : 
She  has  no  sense  of  humor.  So  take  care. 

Arist.  My  lord,  I'm  rough,  but  honest.     I've  a 

tongue 
That  can  not  frame  a  lie. 

Phan.  But  bear  in  mind 

Besides  that  very  rough  and  honest  tongue, 
You  have  a  palate,  and  a  set  of  teeth, 
And  several  delicate  contrivances 
That  aid  digestion.     Tell  her  she's  too  fat, 
And  she  may  take  offense  ;  and,  if  she  does, 
She'll  throw  that  apparatus  out  of  work  : 
That's  all. 


272  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Enter  the  QUEEN  and  MIRZA. 

Good  morning,  Altemire,  my  queen. 
Why,  you  seem  sad. 

Altem.  My  lord,  I'm  very  sad. 

Palmis.  The  Queen  is  sad  !     Zoram,  attune  your 

lyre, 
And  soothe  her  melancholy. 

Altem.  No,  no,  no  — 

I'm  not  in  cue  for  music  —  leave  us,  pray  — 
I  would  take  counsel  with  my  lord  —  look,  sirs, 
I  am  not  well. 

\The  three  COURTIERS  exeunt  into  house. 

Phan.  (aside   to   PALMIS).    Palmis,   what's   here 

amiss  ? 
What  causes  this  ?     Have  7  done  any  thing  ? 

Palmis.  I  know  not,  but  I  think  it  bears  upon 
Your  daughter's  troth  to  brave  Prince  Philamir. 
Whenever  we  have  spoken  on  the  point 
She  has  commanded  silence. 

Phan.  Well,  we'll  see. 

Chrysal  awaits  you  —  you  may  go  to  him  ; 
Talk  to  him  of  your  pledge  to  marry  him, 
And  he'll  not  silence  you.  There,  you  may  go. 

\Exit  PALMIS  into  house. 
Now  what's  the  matter  ? 

Altem.  Oh,  I'm  sick  at  heart 

With  apprehension  !     Our  dear  Zeolide 
To-morrow  is  betrothed  to  Philamir, 
The  bravest  and  the  most  accomplished  Prince 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  273 

In  Christendom.     Phanor,  she  loves  him  not ! 

Phan.  What  makes  you  think  so  ? 

A  Item.  Phanor,  you  are  blind  ! 

Why  see  how  coldly  Zeolide  receives 
His  songs  of  love  —  his  bursts  of  metaphor : 
"  I  love  you,  Philamir,"  and  there's  an  end. 
She  will  vouchsafe  her  spouse-elect  no  more  — 
No  tenderness  —  no  reciprocity  ; 
A  cold,  half-sullen  and  half-wayward  smile, 
And  that  is  all.     The  maiden  lavishes 
More  love  upon  her  horse  ! 

Phan.  Perhaps  she  thinks 

Her  horse  will  bear  such  tokens  of  regard 
With  more  discretion  than  her  lover  would ! 

Altem.  Phanor,  I  tell  you  she  loves  him  not. 
I  am  a  woman,  with  a  woman's  tact. 

Phan.  She  says  she  loves  him. 

Altem.  So  indeed  she  says, 

And  says  no  more.     Phanor,  had  I  been  woo'd 
With  ardent  songs  of  overwhelming  love, 
Framed  by  so  fair  a  poet  as  Philamir, 
It  would  have  turned  my  giddy  woman's  brain, 
And  thrilled  my  reason  to  its  very  core  ! 

Phan.   I  never  thought  my  wooing  poetry, 
Now  I  begin  to  think  it  may  have  been. 

Mirza.  Oh,  sir,  /  love  the  Princess.    Pause  before 
You  sacrifice  her  earthly  happiness 
For  sordid  ends  of  selfish  policy. 
The  Prince  is  rich.     What  then  ?     The  girl  is  poor. 
But  what  is  wealth  of  gold  to  wealth  of  love? 


274  THE   PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

What  famine's  so  deplorable  as  his 
Who  hungers  for  a  love  he  can  not  find  ? 
What  luxury  so  wearisome  as  hers 
Who's  surfeited  with  love  she  values  not  ? 
King  Phanor,  let  the  Princess  be  released ! 

A  Item.  My  lady  Mirza,  you  forget  yourself ! 

Mirza.  I  do  forget  myself,  rememb'ring  her ; 
I  have  her  happiness  at  heart.     The  maid 
Is  more  than  life  to  me.     Forgive  me,  Queen. 
I  could  not  help  but  speak. 

PJian.  Well,  say  no  more. 

I'll  question  her,  and  if  it  then  appears 
She  loves  not  Philamir,  she  shall  be  free. 
I  also  love  the  girl  —  but,  here  she  comes. 
I'll  find  some  test  which  shall  decide  the  point. 

\Exit  PHANOR  into  house. 

Enter  ZEOLIDE. 

A  Item.  My  daughter,  where' s  the  Prince  ? 

Zeo.  I  can  not  say ; 

I  saw  his  highness  yesterday,  but  since 
Have  not  set  eyes  on  him. 

Altem.  Has  he  returned 

From  hunting  ? 

Zeo.  Yes,  I  heard  the  Prince's  voice 

Not  half  an  hour  ago. 

Altem.  And,  in  return, 

You  made  no  sign  to  him  ? 

Zeo.  No  sign,  indeed. 

I  heard  his  song —  'twas  very  sweetly  sung, 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  275 

It  told  of  love  —  it  called  for  no  reply. 

A  Item.  A  song  of  love  that  called  for  no  reply  ? 

Zeo.  It  asked  no  question,  mother. 

A  It  em.  Surely,  girl, 

There  may  be  questions  that  are  not  expressed. 

Zeo.  And  answers,  mother  —  mine  was  one  of 
them  ! 

Altem.  Come,  Zeolide,  I've  much  to  say  to  you. 
Renounce  Prince  Philamir  ere  'tis  too  late  ! 
He  will  release  you  ;  he  is  proud  and  brave, 
And  would  not  force  a  hated  life  on  you. 
Come,  Zeolide,  throw  off  this  weary  bond, 
And  marry  whom  you  love,  or  marry  none  ! 

Zeo.  As  I  am  bound,  dear  mother,  I'll  remain, 
So  let  me  stay  with  Mirza. 

Altem.  (annoyed).  You  can  stay  ! 

[Exit  QUEEN  ALTEMIRE  into  house,  glancing 
angrily  at  MIRZA  ;  ZEOLIDE  notices  this  with 
some  surprise. 

Zeo.  Why,  Mirza,  how  my  mother  frowns  at  you  ! 
How  have  you  angered  her  ? 

Mirza.  I  love  you  well ; 

And  when  I  told  her  of  my  sister-love, 
In  words  more  passionate  than  politic, 
The  Queen  rebuked  me  sternly. 

Zeo.  Oh,  for  shame  ! 

Mirza.  She  is  your  mother,  and  she  claims  your 

love, 

And  can  not  brook  that  I  should  share  that  love. 
I  can  forgive  the  noble  jealousy 


276  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

That  comes  of  woman's  love  for  woman. 

Zeo.  Yes ; 

For  you  are  Mirza  —  queen  of  womankind  — 
The  best,  the  noblest  woman  in  the  world ! 

Mirza.  Why,  here  is  warmth  !   and  people  call 

you  cold 
Because  you  are  so  cold  to  Philamir. 

Zeo.  Why,  Mirza,  he's  a  man  ! 

Enter  PHILAMIR  from  house  —  he  overhears  MIRZA. 

Mirza.  A  man  indeed  '. 

The  bravest  warrior  that  wields  a  sword ; 
The  rarest  poet  that  ever  penned  a  lay ; 
An  admirable  knight  —  gay,  handsome,  young, 
Brave,  wealthy,  and  accomplished  —  with  a  tongue 
Might  shame  a  siren's  ! 

Zeo.  Hush  !  a  siren's  tongue 

Is  not  renowned  for  much  sincerity. 

Mirza.  He  is  sincere. 

Zeo.  Indeed,  I  hope  he  is  ! 

Phil,  (coming  forward'] .  I  thank  you,  Lady  Mirza, 
for  those  words. 

Mirza  (coldly}.  I  little  thought  that  they  were 

overheard. 
This  is  ungenerous,  Prince  Philamir. 

[Bows  coldly  and  exit ;    PHILAMIR  rushes  to 
ZEOLIDE,  who  receives  him  very  quietly. 

Phil.  Dear  Zeolide,  at  last  we  are  alone ! 
Oh,  I  have  longed  for  this  ! 

Zeo.  Indeed  !     And  why  ? 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  277 

Phil.  And    why  ?     We    can    converse   without 
reserve. 

Zeo.  What  should  I  say  when  we  are  quite  alone 
That  I  should  leave  unsaid  were  others  here  ? 
I  can  but  say,  "  I  love  you,"  Philamir. 

Phil.  And  is  that  all  ? 

Zeo.  And  is  not  that  enough  ? 

Phil.  All  the  world  knows  you  love  me  ! 

Zeo.  That  is  why 

I  do  not  blush  to  own  it  in  the  world. 

Phil.  But  give  me  more  —  /  love  you,  Zeolide, 
As  the  earth  loves  the  sun  ! 

Zeo.  The  earth  is  glad 

To  see  the  sun,  and  asks  no  more  than  that. 
You  would  do  well  to  imitate  the  earth. 

Phil.  I  am  content  to  imitate  the  earth  — 
I  am  content  to  sit  and  gaze  at  you, 
Tranced  in  a  lazy  glow  of  happiness ; 
But  if  you  speak  and  wake  me  from  that  trance, 
Wake  me,  dear  Zeolide,  with  warmer  words. 
"  I  love  you !  "  Why  I  know  you  love  me  well ! 
Say  nothing,  Zeolide,  and  I'm  content. 
If  you  say  any  thing,  say  more  than  that ! 

Zeo.  What  words  could  I  employ  which,  tested  in 
The  crucible  of  unimpassioned  truth, 
Would  not  resolve  themselves  into  those  three  ? 
Now  I  must  go  —  your  sun's  about  to  set  — 
So  farewell  earth  ! 

Phil.  And  when  the  sun  is  down 

The  earth  is  inconsolable  ! 
24 


278  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Zeo.  Until 

The  moon  appears  !     Perhaps  there  is  a  moon 
That  fills  my  place  until  I  rise  again  ? 

Phil.  No  moon,  dear  Zeolide ;  or,  if  there  be, 
She  floats  in  one  perpetual  eclipse  ! 

Zeo.  The  moon  is  not  the  less  a  moon  because 
The  earth  thinks  fit  to  hide  her  from  the  sun  ! 

Phil.  Nay  ;  you  pursue  the  metaphor  too  far. 
If  I,  the  earth,  conceal  a  nightly  moon, 
Why  you,  the  sun,  have  many  worlds  to  warm, 
And  some  are  nearer  to  you  than  this  earth  ! 

Zeo.   Hush,  Philamir !  I'm  ready  to  believe 
That  you're  an  earth  that  knows  no  moon  at  all, 
If  you'll  allow  that  I,  although  a  sun, 
Consent  to  warm  no  other  world  than  this  ! 

(Kissing  his  forehead,  and  going. 

Phil.  Oh,  do  not  leave  me  thus,  dear  Zeolide. 
I  am  a  beggar,  begging  charity ; 
Throw  me  more  coin  that  bears  the  stamp  of  love ! 

Zeo.  I  have  one  coin  that  bears  that  holy  stamp  — 
I  give  you  that  —  I  have  no  more  to  give. 

Phil.  Tell  me  its  value,  then,  in  words  of  love  ! 

Zeo.  What !  would  you  have  me  advertise  my 

alms, 
And  trumpet  forth  my  largess  to  the  world  ? 

Phil.  Not  to  the  world,  dear  Zeolide  —  to  me  ! 

Zeo.  Ah,  you  would  have  me  say  "  You  are  my 

world ! " 

You  see,  I  have  the  trick  of  ardent  speech, 
And  I  could  use  it,  were  I  so  disposed. 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  279 

But  surely,  Philamir,  the  mendicant 
Who  is  not  satisfied  to  take  my  alms 
Until  he  knows  how  much  that  alms  be  worth, 
Can  scarcely  stand  in  need  of  alms  at  all ! 
I  love  you,  Philamir  —  be  satisfied. 
Whose  vows  are  made  so  earnestly  as  hers 
Who  would  deceive  you  by  her  earnestness  ? 
Why,  if  I  sought  to  trick  you,  Philamir, 

I  should  select  such  phrases  for  my  end 

So  passionate  —  and  yet  so  delicate, 
So  fierce  —  from  overflow  of  gentle  love, 
So  furious  —  from  excess  of  tenderness, 
That  even  your  expressions  of  regard, 
Unbounded  in  their  hot  extravagance, 
Would  pale  before  the  fury  of  my  words, 
And  you,  from  very  shame,  would  call  them  back, 
And  beg  my  pardon  for  their  want  of  warmth  ! 
I  love  you,  Philamir — I'll  say  no  more  !          \Exit. 
Phil.  Gone  !     But  I'll  follow  her (going}. 

Enter  PHANOR  from  house. 

Phan.  Stop,  Philamir, 

If,  as  she  says,  she  loves  you,  well  and  good  ; 
She'll  give  you  proof  of  it  in  her  good  time ; 
But  if  she  don't,  why  take  an  old  boy's  word 
(Who  speaks  of  love  with  some  authority), 
She'll  love  you  none  the  better  for  the  warmth 
That  prompts  you  to  perpetual  persecution. 
The  girl  has  taken  this  road  —  take  you  that. 

[PHILAMIR  stands  irresolute,  then  goes  off  slowly, 
in  tJie  direction  indicated. 


28o  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

That's  good  advice  ! 

Enter  QUEEN  ALTEMIRE  from  house. 

Altem.  My  lord,  old  Gelanor, 

The  steward  of  your  palace,  has  arrived, 
And  waits  without. 

Phan.  We'll  see  him  presently. 

Altem.  (with  some  hesitation}.  Now,  do  you  know, 

I  often  wonder  why, 

Possessing  such  a  palace,  furnished  with 
The  rarest  luxuries  that  wealth  can  buy, 
You  hold  your  Court  in  this  secluded  place  ? 
I  have  been  married  to  you  eighteen  years, 
Yet  I  have  never  seen  this  palace,  which 
Stands  barely  twenty  miles  away,  and  which 
You  visit  regularly  once  a  month. 

Phan.  (rather confused}.    There  are  good  reasons, 
Altemire. 

Altem.  (angry).  No  doubt ! 
Exceedingly  good  reasons  !     When  a  man 
Maintains  a  bachelor  establishment, 
He  has  the  best  of  reasons  to  decline 
To  take  his  wife  there ! 

Phan.  You're  a  jealous  fool. 

Altem.  Jealous  I  am,  and  possibly  a  fool, 
But  not  a  fool  for  being  jealous. 

Phan.  Peace, 

And  I  will  tell  you  why  I  take  you  not. 
That  palace  is  enchanted.     Every  one 
Who  enters  there  is  bound  to  speak  the  truth  — 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  281 

The  simple,  unadulterated  truth. 

To  every  question  that  is  put  to  him 

He  must  return  the  unaffected  truth, 

And  strange  to  say,  while  publishing  the  truth 

He's  no  idea  that  he  is  doing  so ; 

And  while  he  lets  innumerable  cats 

Out  of  unnumbered  bags,  he  quite  believes 

That  all  the  while  he's  tightening  the  strings 

That  keep  them  from  a  too  censorious  world. 

What  do  you  say  to  that  ? 

A  It  em.  (amazed}.  Say  ?     Would  the  world 

Were  one  such  palace,  Phanor ! 

P/ian.  If  it  were, 

At  least  we  all  should  meet  on  equal  terms  ; 
But  to  be  taken  from  a  world  in  which 
That  influence  don't  exist,  and  to  be  placed 
Inside  a  fairy  palace  where  it  does 
(Accompanied,  moreover,  by  one's  wife), 
Might  take  one  at  a  disadvantage ! 

A  Item.  Well, 

I  am  prepared  to  undergo  the  test 
If  you'll  accompany  me. 

Phan.  No,  no,  no  ! 

You  are  a  worthy  woman,  Altemire, 
But,  Altemire,  you  have  your  faults  ! 

Alt  em.  My  lord, 

I  am  a  woman  ! 

Phan.  Yes,  exactly  so  ; 

If  you  were  not  a  woman,  Altemire, 
Or,  being  one,  were  some  one  else's  wife, 
24* 


282  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

I'd  take  you  there  to-morrow ! 

Altem.  But,  my  lord, 

Why  won't  you  take  me,  being  what  I  am  ? 

Pkan.  Because,  my  wife,  I  don't  know  what  you 
are. 

A  Item.  You  know,  at  least,  that  I'm  a  faithful 
wife. 

Phan.  I  think  you're  more  than  faithful.    I  believe 
You  are  a  perfect  woman,  Altemire, 
A  pattern  as  a  mother  and  a  wife  — 
And,  so  believing,  why  I  do  not  care 
To  run  the  risk  of  being  undeceived  ! 

Altem.  (annoyed}.  My  lord,  you  are  unjust !  Can 

you  believe 

I  should  expose  myself  to  such  a  test 
Had  I  been  guilty  of  unfaithfulness  ? 
I  am  no  perfect  woman,  Phanor.    I  have  faults 
That  advertise  themselves.     No  need  to  say 
That  I'm  quick-tempered,  jealous,  over-prone 
To  underrate  the  worth  of  womankind  — 
Impetuous  —  unreasonable  —  vain  — 
I  am  a  woman,  with  a  woman's  faults. 
But,  being  woman,  Phanor,  I'm  a  wife  ; 
And,  in  that  I  am  one,T  need  not  blush. 
You  have  some  better  reason.     Possibly 
You  dread  the  palace  on  your  own  account  ? 

Phan.  I  dread  the  palace,  Altemire  ?     No,  no. 
I  am  a  child  of  impulse.     All  my  faults 
Lie  on  the  surface.     I  have  naught  to  hide. 
Such  little  faults  as  sully  me  you  know. 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  283 

A  Item.  Or  guess. 

Phan.  Ha  !    Am  I  then  to  understand 

My  Queen  suspects  her  husband  ? 

A  Item.  Yes,  you  are  ! 

Phan.  Then  this  decides  me.     You  shall  go  with 
me. 

Altem.  But- 

Phan.  Not  a  word  —  King  Phanor  can  not  brook 
The  breath  of  jealousy.     With  all  his  faults 
His  married  life  has  been  as  pure  as  snow. 
We  two  will  go  this  morning. 

Altem.  Stay !     A  thought ! 

Let  us  take  Zeolide  and  Philamir, 
They  shall  not  know  the  fairy  influence 
To  which  they  are  subjected.     If  the  maid 
Does  not  love  Philamir,  she'll  show  it  then, 
And  the  betrothal  can  be  canceled.     If 
She  loves  him,  why,  she'll  show  it  all  the  more  : 
Then  the  betrothal  shall  be  ratified. 

Phan.  We  will  take  Zeolide  and  Philamir, 
Chrysal  and  Zoram  —  Aristaeus  too, 
And  Palmis  —  yes,  and  blameless  Lady  Mirza  — 
Mirza,  the  good,  the  beautiful,  the  pure ! 

Altem.  Mirza!     Eternal  Mirza!     Everywhere 
I  hear  her  irritating  virtues  praised  ! 
I'm  weary  of  the  woman ! 

Phan.  Stop  a  bit, 

Till  we  are  in  the  palace.     Then  we'll  learn 
Not  only  your  opinion  of  her  worth, 
But  also  why  you  hold  it. 


284  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Altem.  Well,  well,  well ! 

The  maid  is  young  and  beautiful,  and  I 
Am  envious  of  that  youth  and  beauty.     See, 
I  can  anticipate  the  influence 
To  which  I'm  going  to  subject  myself. 
There  I  was  wrong.     Mirza  shall  go  with  us, 
And  by  her  conduct  under  such  a  test, 
Prove  the  injustice  of  my  estimate. 
I'll  go  and  warn  the  Court. 

[Exit  QUEEN  ALTEMIRE  into  house. 

Phan.  The  course  I  take 

Is  rather  rash,  but  the  experiment 
Will  not  be  destitute  of  interest. 

Enter  GELANOR  from  house. 

Well,  Gelanor,  what  tidings  do  you  bring  ? 
About  our  palace  ? 

Gttan.  Sir,  the  old,  old  tale. 

Men  come  and  go  —  and  women  come  and  go. 
Although  the  palace  gates  are  opened  wide 
To  rich  and  poor  alike  —  and  rich  and  poor 
Alike  receive  full  hospitality 
For  any  length  of  time  they  care  to  stay, 
Few  care  to  stay  above  a  day  or  two. 
Free  entertainment  in  a  princely  home 
Is  little  valued  when  it's  coupled  with 
The  disadvantage  of  a  dwelling-place 
Where  every  one  is  bound  to  speak  the  truth. 
When  does  my  lord  propose  to  start  ? 

Phan.  To-day. 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  285 

But  this  time  not  alone,  good  Gelanor. 

Gelan.  And  who  is  to  accompany  you,  sir  ? 

Phan.  My  wife. 

Gelan.  Your  wife  ? 

Phan.  My  wife. 

Gttan.  Great  heavens,  my  lord, 

Have  you  reflected  ? 

Phan.  Yes. 

Ge'lan.  To  any  place 

Where  one  is  bound  to  speak  the  baldest  truth 
Concerning  all  the  actions  of  one's  life, 
It's  hardly  politic  to  take  one's  wife ! 

Phan.  Oh,  I've  the  fullest  confidence  in  her. 
She's  a  good  woman,  Gelanor. 

Gelan.  Ah,  sir, 

I  have  seen  married  couples  by  the  score, 
Who,  when  they  passed  within  our  crystal  walls, 
Have  boldly  advertised  themselves  prepared 
To  stake  their  souls  upon  each  other's  faith  — 
But  who,  before  they've  spent  an  hour  at  most 
Under  the  castle's  mystic  influence, 
Have  separated  ne'er  to  meet  again  ! 
Oh,  have  a  care ! 

Phan.  Queen  Altemire  knows  all, 

And  knowing  all  she  fears  not  for  herself, 
So  I've  no  fear  for  her  ! 

Ge'lan.  But  you,  my  liege  — 

How  vfillyou  bear  yourself  'neath  such  a  test  ? 
You  have  been  married  nearly  eighteen  years  : 
That's  a  long  time  ! 


286  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Enter  MIRZA,  unobserved. 

Phan.  Well,  yes  —  I've  thought  of  that. 

I'm  a  good  husband  —  as  good  husbands  go. 
I  love  my  wife  — but  still  —  you  understand  — 
Boys  will  be  boys  !     There  is  a  point  or  two  — 
Say  two,  as  being  nearer  to  the  mark  — 
On  which  I  do  not  altogether  care 
To  stand  examination  by  my  wife. 
Perhaps  I  may  have  given  out  that  I've 
Been  dining  here  —  when  I've  been  dining  there  — 
I  may  have  said  "  with  A  "    -  when  'twas  with  B  — 
I  may  have  said  "with  him"  —  when  'twas  with 

her — 

Distinctions  such  as  these,  good  Gelanor, 
Though  strangely  unimportant  in  themselves, 
Still  have  a  value,  which  the  female  mind's 
Particularly  quick  to  apprehend. 
Now  here's  a  talisman  —  a  crystal  box  —  (produ 
cing  it). 

Whoever  carries  this  within  those  walls 
May  overcome  the  castle's  influence, 
And  utter  truth  or  falsehood  as  he  wills. 
I  should  do  well,  I  think,  to  take  this  box  ? 

Gtlan.  From  all  accounts,  my  lord,  I  think  you 

would ! 
(Sees  Mirza)  Ahem  !     We  are  observed  ! 

Mirza.  My  lord,  I  trust 

My  presence  here  is  not  inopportune  ? 
I  will  withdraw. 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  287 

Phan.  No,  Lady  Mirza,  no  ! 

I  was  exhibiting  to  Gelan  or 
A  curious  specimen  of  crystal  work — 
He  understands  such  things. 

Mirza  (taking  box).  And  so  do  I. 

How  marvelously  pure  !     No  single  flaw 
Affects  its  exquisite  transparency  ! 
A  perfect  emblem  of  a  spotless  life ! 

Gelan.  But,  Lady  Mirza,  perfect  spotlessness 
Is  apt  to  smack  of  insipidity. 

Mirza.  No  —  hold  it  to  the  light,  and  see  the 

change ! 

See  how  its  exquisite  prismatic  hues, 
Under  the  influence  of  searching  light, 
Are  instantly  made  clear  and  manifest. 
As  shines  this  crystal  in  the  sun,  so  shines 
A  perfect  woman  in  the  light  of  truth. 
The  modest  beauties  of  a  spotless  life 
Remain  unknown  and  unsuspected,  till 
A  ray  of  truth-light  starts  them  into  life, 
And  shows  them  —  all  unwilling  —  to  the  world  ! 

Gelan.  But  there  are  hidden  qualities  of  soul 
That  even  truth  can  not  detect.     Suppose 
This  crystal,  peerless  in  its  spotlessness, 
Turned  out  to  be  a  potent  talisman, 
With  power  to  work  all  kinds  of  devilry  ? 
There  are  such  things ! 

Phan.  (aside).  Why  there  are  women,  too 

(I  have  known  many  such),  to  whom  the  box 
Might  still  be  very  properly  compared  ! 


288  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Mirza.  Impossible,  my  lord.     I'll  not  believe 
That  aught  so  beautiful  could  be  so  base. 
(Returning  it]  I  thank  you,  sir.     I've  read  a  lesson 

here 
That  I  shall  take  good  heed  to  profit  by. 

Enter  the  QUEEN  ALTEMIRE,  with  ZEOLIDE, 
PHANOR,  ARIST^EUS,  ZORAM,  and  PALMIS, 
from  hozise. 

Altem.  Here  comes  your  Court,  my  lord. 

PJian.  That's  well.     My  friends, 

I  have  a  palace,  twenty  miles  away — 
A  lovely  place,  engirt  with  crystal  walls  ; 
Its  grounds  will  show  fair  flowers  and  shady  groves, 
Huge  forest  trees,  rare  fountains,  hill  and  dale. 
There's    hunting,    fishing  —  eighteen    years    pre 
served  ! 

There  the  sun  shines  unclouded  all  day  long. 
What  say  you  —  will  you  go  ? 

Chrys.  Go  ?     What  care  I 

Whether  it  rain  or  shine  so  that  I  may 
Bask  in  the  sunshine  of  my  King  and  Queen  ! 

Phan.  In  half  an  hour  we  start.     Once  there,  our 

life 

Shall  be  a  song,  and  Aristasus  here, 
The  jolly,  genial,  laughing  Aristaeus, 
Shall  strike  the  key-note ! 

Arist.  Well,  I'll  do  my  best. 

Zor.  But  pray  consider.     If  the  intervals 
Throughout  the  diatonic  series,  sir, 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  289 

Were  mathematically  equal,  why 
It  would  not  greatly  matter,  as  you  know, 
Upon  what  note  your  melody  commenced. 
But  as  it  is  not  so,  we  must  respect 
The  intervals  the  melody  demands. 
No  key-note  struck  by  Aristseus  could 
Be  correspondent  with  those  intervals  ! 

Phil.  Fit  give  the  key-note.    We  will  pass  the  day 
By  quivering  willows  at  the  waterside, 
Lapped  in  a  lazy  luxury  of  love  ! 
There  we'll  forget  the  world  of  work-a-day, 
And  crown  our  happiness  with  songs  of  love  ! 
What  say  you,  dearest  Zeolide  ? 

Zeo.  I've  said 

As  much  as  it  is  maidenly  to  say  — 
IJove  you,  Philamir —  be  satisfied  ! 


ACT     II. 

SCENE.  —  Interior  of  the  Palace  of  Truth. 

Enter  GELANOR,  meeting  KING  PHANOR  and  QUEEN 
ALTEMIRE  and  ZEOLIDE. 

Gtlan.  Welcome,  my  lord !     Madam,  I  humbly 

trust 

The  palace  realizes  all  the  hopes 
That  you  had  entertained  concerning  it. 

Altem.  Indeed,  it  far  exceeds  them,  Gelanor. 
There  is  no  lovelier  abode  on  earth  ! 
25 


290  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

And  so  says  Zeolide. 

Zeo.  Indeed  she  does ! 

Why,  father,  I  have  lived  near  eighteen  years, 
And  never  knew  until  three  hours  ago 
That  you  possessed  so  lovely  a  domain ! 
Why  have  I  wasted  eighteen  years  on  earth, 
When  such  a  heaven  as  this  awaited  me  ? 

Gtlan.  (aside  to  PHANOR).  You  have  not  told  the 

Princess  or  your  Court 
The  palace's  peculiarity  ? 

Phan.  Not  I.     The  secret  is  our  own,  as  yet  — 
The  Queen's,  and  yours,  and  mine. 

Gelan.  With  you  and  me 

The  secret's  safe.     But  then  —  Queen  Altemire  — 
If  you  have  told  her  all 

Phan.  No,  no  —  not  all ! 

Here  is  a  secret  which  is  yours  and  mine  ; 

(producing  crystal  box} 
And  yours  and  mine  the  secret  shall  remain. 
Protected  by  this  talisman,  I  stand, 
A  sturdy  rock  amid  the  shifting  sands  — 
A  salamander  in  a  world  of  fire  — 
Achilles  in  a  crowd  of  myrmidons  — 
Achilles,  with  an  iron-plated  heel ! 
Go,  send  my  courtiers  —  I  anticipate 
No  ordinary  sport  from  watching  them. 

[Exeunt  GELANOR  and  PHANOR. 

Altem.  What  are  you  reading,  Zeolide  ? 

Zeo.  (with  scroll}.  A  song 

Written  by  Chrysal  set  to  Zoram's  notes  ; 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  291 

They  gave  it  me  before  we  left  our  home, 
But  in  the  hurry  of  the  journey  here, 
I  managed  to  mislay  it  —  here  it  is. 

Enter  ZORAM,  CHRYSAL,  and  ARIST^US. 

And  here  are  author  and  composer,  too  — 
And  Critic,  teeming  with  humanity. 
Come  let  us  hear  it. 

(ZEOLIDE  sings  a  song.     At  its   conclusion 

CHRYSAL  and  ZORAM  applaud) 
Chrys.  (coming  forward  ^vith  all  the  action  of  a 
man   who  is  expressing  extreme  approval). 
Oh,  I  protest,  my  ears  have  never  heard 
A  goodly  song  more  miserably  sung. 
(Clapping  hands)  Oh,  very  poor  indeed  —  oh,  very 

weak, 

No  voice  —  no  execution  —  out  of  tune  — 
Pretentious  too  —  oh,  very,  very  poor !  (Applauding 

as  if  in  ecstacies) 
Altem.  (amused).    Indeed !    I   think   I've   often 

heard  you  say 
No  voice  could  rival  Princess  Zeolide's  ? 

Chrys.  (enthusiastically).    I've  often  said  so  —  I 

have  praised  her  voice, 
Because  I  am  a  courtier  —  paid  to  praise. 
I  never  meant  one  word  of  what  I  said  ; 
I  have  the  worst  opinion  of  her  voice, 
And  so  has  Zoram. 

Zor.  I  ?     Oh,  dear  me,  no  ! 

I  can  form  no  opinion  on  the  point, 


292  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

I  am  no  judge  of  music. 

Chrys.  Eh  ? 

Zor.  Not  I ! 

I  hardly  know  the  treble  from  the  bass, 
And  as  to  harmony —  I  know  the  word, 
But  hang  me  if  I  guess  at  what  it  means  ! 

Zeo.  Oh,  Zoram,  you  are  jesting  —  why  you  wrote 
The  air  I  sung! 

Zor.  I  wrote  the  air  ?     Not  I, 

I  paid  a  poor  musician  for  his  work, 
And  palmed  it  off  upon  you  as  my  own. 
A  common  trick  with  melodists  who  stand 
Far  higher  in  the  world's  esteem  than  I ! 

Altem.  Well,  Aristaeus  there  has  still  to  speak. 
What  says  that  rollicking  philosopher  ? 
Come,  growl  it  out ! 

Arist.  (gruffly,  as  if  finding  fault.}  It's  sweetly 

pretty,  ma'am, 
And  very  nicely  sung.     I  like  it  much. 

Zeo.  What !  Aristaeus  pleased  ? 

Arist.  (very  savagely}.  Of  course  I  am  ; 

I'm  always  pleased  with  every  thing. 

Altem.  Indeed ! 

Men  look  on  Aristaeus  as  a  man 
Whom  nothing  satisfies. 

Arist.  (with  outrageous  bluntness).  Then  men  are 

wrong, 

No  child's  more  easily  amused  than  I. 
But,  here  at  Court,  where  every  one  is  pleased 
With  every  thing,  my  amiability 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  293 

Would  go  for  naught ;  so  I  have  coined  myself 

A  disposition  foreign  to  my  own, 

In  hopes  my  clumsy  boorish  insolence 

Might  please  you  by  its  very  novelty  ; 

And  prove,  perchance,  a  not  unwelcome  foil 

To  Zoram's  mockery  of  cultured  taste, 

And  Chrysal's  chronic  insincerity  ! 

I'm  rough  and  honest,  frank  —  outspoken  —  blunt. 

Chrys.  Boor !  when  you  dare  to  say  I'm  insincere 
You  tell  the  truth  —  there,  make  the  most  of  that ! 

Zor.  Chrysal,  your  hand  ;  I'm  glad  to  find  at  last 
Your  eyes  are  opened  to  your  many  faults. 

Chrys.  How,  sir,  is  this  intentional  affront  ? 

Zor.  No,  not  intentional.     I  tried  to  frame 
A  pleasant  speech,  but,  by  some  awkward  slip, 
The  truth  escaped  me  quite  against  my  will. 
( With  great  admiration)  You  systematic  liar ! 

Chrys.  Insolent ! 

Zor.  Sir ! 

Chrys.          This  shall  cost  or  you  or  me  his  life. 
In  half  an  hour  you  shall  hear  from  me  ! 

{Exit  CHRYSAL. 

Zor.  (in  terror}.  What  Jiave  I  said  ? 

A  Item,  (aside).  These  boobies  must  not  fight, 
But  how  to  stop  them  ?     Here  comes  Philamir ! 
Now  he  and  Zeolide  can  meet.     But  first 
I  must  get  rid  of  Zoram.     (To  ZORAM).     Get  you 

hence, 
I  will  contrive  to  pacify  your  foe. 

Zor.  But 

25* 


294  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Altem.  Go ! 

Zor.  (piteous  ly).  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  I've 
done ! 

[Exeunt  ZORAM  and  QUEEN  ALTEMIRE. 

Enter  PHILAMIR,  —  ZEOLIDE  runs  to  him  and  em 
braces  him  —  he  turns  away. 

Zeo.  My  love,  is  Philamir  unhappy  ? 

Phil  Yes. 

I  have  heard  people  talking  of  our  troth, 
And  prophesying  that  it  will  soon  cease. 

Zeo.  Indeed  !  They  think  you  do  not  love  me, 
then  ? 

Phil.  They  doubt   not   that  —  they  doubt  your 

love  for  me. 

Some  say  it  sleeps ;  some  say  that  it  is  dead ; 
Some  that  it  never  lived.     Oh,  Zeolide, 
If  love  for  Philamir  is  yet  unborn, 
Why  bring  it  now  to  light !     Where  will  you  find 
A  fitter  nursery  for  love  than  this  ? 
If  that  love  lives,  but  sleeps,  why  wake  it  now 
And  let  it  revel  in  these  golden  groves. 
If  it  is  dead,  why  here's  a  paradise 
That  well  might  summon  it  to  second  life  ! 

Zeo.  It  sleeps  not,  Philamir,  nor  is  it  dead, 
It  lives  and  can  not  die. 

Phil  But  people  say 

That  love  should  advertise  itself  in  words 
More  fervid  than  the  weary  formula, 
"  I  love  you,  Philamir."     You  love  your  friends. 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  295 

Why,  Zeolide,  I  think  I've  heard  you  say 
You  love  your  horse  ! 

Zeo.  Unjust !     You  ask  me,  then, 

To  limit  my  illimitable  love, 
And  circle,  with  a  boundary  of  words, 
A  wealth  of  love  that  knows  no  bounds  at  all ! 
There  is  a  love  that  words  may  typify  — 
A  mere  material  love  —  that  one  may  weigh 
As  jewelers  weigh  gold.     Such  love  is  worth 
The  gold  one  pays  for  it  —  it's  worth  no  more. 
Why,  Philamir,  I  might  as  well  attempt 
To  set  a  price  upon  the  universe  — 
Or  measure  space  —  or  time  eternity, 
As  tell  my  love  in  words  ! 

Phil,  (astonished}.  Why,  Zeolide, 
At  last  you  speak  !     Why  this,  indeed,  is  love  ! 

Zeo.  (aside}.  What   have   I   said  ?      (Aloud  and 

coldly)     Indeed,  I'm  glad  to  think 
My  words  have  pleased  you  ! 

Phil,  (with  enthusiasm).  Pleased  me  ?     They've 

done  more  — 

They've  gratified  my  vanity,  and  made 
Me  feel  that  I  am  irresistible  ! 

Zeo.  Indeed  ! 

Phil.  Indeed,  dear  Zeolide,  they  have. 

Why  how  you  frown  ! 

Zeo.  (coldly).  If  such  a  love  as  mine 

Serves  but  to  feed  your  sense  of  vanity, 
I  think  it  is  misplaced. 

Phil.  My  vanity 


296  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Must  needs  be  fed,  and  with  such  love  as  yours. 

I  have  worked  hard  to  gain  it,  Zeolide  ! 

You  are  not  nearly  as  attractive  as 

Five  hundred  other  ladies  I  could  name, 

Who,  when  I  said  I  loved  them,  stopped  my  lips  — 

Zeo.  (astonished}.  I'm  glad  they  did  ! 

Phil.  With  kisses,  ere  I  could 

Repeat  the  sentence ;  and  it  hurt  me  much 
That  you,  who  are  comparatively  plain, 
Should  give  me  so  much  trouble,  Zeolide. 

Zeo.  (aside}.  What  can  he  mean  ?     (Aloud}    Oh, 
you  are  mocking  me 

Phil.  Mocking  you,  Zeolide  ?  You  do  me  wrong  ! 
( With  enthusias^i)  Oh,  place  the  fullest  value  on 

my  words, 

And  you'll  not  overvalue  them  !     I  swear, 
As  I'm  a  Christian  knight,  I  speak  the  truth  ! 

Zeo.  Why,  Philamir,  you've  often  told  me  that 
You  never  loved  a  woman  till  we  met ! 

Phil,  (with  all  the  appearance  of  rapture}.  I  al 
ways  say  that.     I  have  said  the  same 
To  all  the  women  that  I  ever  woo'd  ! 

Zeo.  And  they  believ'd  you  ? 

Phil.  Certainly  they  did. 

They  always  do  !     Whatever  else  they  doubt, 
They  don't  doubt  that !  (He  tries  to  embrace  her.} 

Zeo.  (horror-struck}.  Away,  and  touch  me  not ! 

Phil.  What  ?    Has  my  earnestness  offended  you, 
Or  do  you  fear  that  my  impassioned  speech 
Is  over-colored  ?     Trust  me,  Zeolide, 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  297 

If  it  be  over-charged  with  clumsy  love, 

Or  teem  with  ill-selected  metaphor, 

It  is  because  my  soul  is  not  content 

To  waste  its  time  in  seeking  precious  stones, 

When  paste  will  answer  every  end  as  well ! 

Zco.  Why,  Philamir,  dare  you  say  this  to  me  ? 

Phil.  All  this,  and  more  than  this,  I  dare  to  say. 
I  dare  to  tell  you  that  I  like  you  much, 
For  you  are  amiable,  refined,  and  good — - 
Saving  a  little  girlish  diffidence 
I  have  no  serious  fault  to  find  with  you  ! 

Zeo.  You're  very  good  ! 

Phil.  Indeed,  I  think  I  am, 

But  let  that  pass.     In  truth  I  like  you  much. 
At  first  I  loved  you  in  an  off-hand  way  ! 

Zeo.  At  first  ? 

Phil.  Until  the  novelty  wore  off, 

And  then,  receiving  but  a  cold  response 
To  all  the  seeming  fury  of  my  love, 
My  pride  was  nettled,  and  I  persevered 
Until  I  made  you  tell  me  of  your  love, 
In  words  that  bore  comparison  with  mine. 
I've  done  that,  and  I'm  amply  satisfied. 

Zeo.  (in  blank  astonishment}.  And  this  is  Phila- 

mir,  who  used  to  breathe 

Such  words  of  passion  and  such  songs  of  love  ! 
Those  words  that  fiercely  burnt  with  such  false  fire, 
Those  songs  that  sung  so  lovingly  of  lies, 
Bore  unsuspected  fruit  —  I  gathered  it 
And  garnered  it  away.     Oh,  Philamir, 


298  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

As  misers  store  up  gold,  I  stored  my  love 

In  all  the  inmost  corners  of  my  heart, 

Dreading  to  speak  or  look  at  Philamir, 

Lest  some  unguarded  word  or  tell-tale  glance 

Should  give  a  clew  to  all  the  wealth  within  ! 

I  laughed  within  myself,  as  misers  laugh, 

To  find  my  hoard  increasing  day  by  clay, 

And  now  —  the  coin  I  hoarded  up  is  base  — 

The   flowers   that   decked    my   life   are   worthless 

weeds  — 

The  fruit  I  plucked  is  withered  at  the  core  — 
And  all  my  wealth  has  faded  into  air ! 

Phil.  Faded  ?  Why,  Zeolicle,  what  do  you  mean  ? 
I  do  not  love  you  as  a  lover  should, 
Yet  you  reproach  me  !     Oh,  you  are  unjust. 

Zeo.  Indeed,  I'll  not  reproach  you  !     Let  me  go. 
My  grief  shall  be  as  silent  as  my  love. 
Farewell !  {Exit. 

Phil.  That  woman's  mad  !    Unquestionably  mad  ! 
My  show  of  love  has  sent  her  brain  adrift.. 
Poor  girl !     I  really  like  her  very  much. 
I  tell  her  that  I  love  her  —  and  in  words 
Which  never  yet  were  known  to  miss  their  mark 
When  uttered  by  Prince  Philamir  —  in  words 
So  charged  with  passion  that  they  well  might  charm 
The  very  proudest  maid  in  Christendom ; 
And  off  she  bounces  as  indignantly 
As  if  I'd  told'  the  very  plainest  truth  ! 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  299 

Enter  CHRYSAL. 

CJirys.  Your  Royal  Highness  seems  disturbed. 

Phil.  I  am  ! 

I'm  much  annoyed  with  Princess  Zeolide. 
You  know  how  coldly  she  has  hitherto 
Received  the  protestations  of  my  love  ? 

Chrys.  (politely).  I  do  indeed.     You've  been  the 

laughing-stock 
Of  all  the  Court  for  months  on  that  account. 

Phil,  (amazed).  Oh,  have  I  so? 

Chrys.  Upon  my  soul,  you  have. 

Phil.  You're  candid,  sir. 

Chrys.  (still  as  if  paying  a  compliment).    I  can 

afford  to  be 

Extremely  candid  with  Prince  Philamir. 
But  let  that  pass.     You  were  reminding  me 
How  coldly  Princess  Zeolide  received 
Your  vows.     What  then  ? 

Phil. .                          Why,  not  ten  minutes  since 
Her  manner  changed,  and  all  her  pent-up  love 
Burst  from  her  lips  in  frenzied  eloquence. 
I  was  astounded  !  —  I,  of  course,  began 
To  echo  all  her  sentiments  ten-fold. 
I  picked  the  very  fairest  flowers  that  grow 
Upon  the  dreamy  plains  of  metaphor, 
And  showered  them  upon  her.     White  with  rage 
She  started  from  me  —  telling  me,  with  tears, 
Her  dream  of  love  had  melted  into  air  ! 
I  see  you  don't  believe  me,  Chrysal 


300  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Chrys.  Well, 

I  half  believe  you.     I  can  scarcely  think 
The  Princess  spoke  with  rapture  of  your  love ; 
But  I  can  quite  believe  that  when  you  spoke 
In  what  you're  pleased  to  think  is  metaphor, 
The  well-bred  Princess  shrank  instinctively 
From  such  a  florid  prince  as  Philamir 

(with  a  respectful  bow}. 

Phil,  (haughtily}.    This  form  of   compliment  is 
new  to  me ! 

Chrys.  My  lord,  my  speciality  consists 
In  framing  novel  forms  of  compliment. 
But  who  comes  here  —  a  modest  little  maid  — 

Enter  AZEMA  —  she  starts  on  seeing  PHILAMIR  and 

<_5 

CHRYS  AL. 

And  rather  pretty  too.     , 

Phil,  (angrily).  She  hears  you,  sir  ! 
(Politely  to  AZEMA)  I  fear  we've  frightened  you  ? 

Azema.  Oh  no,  indeed, 

I  am  not  frightened,  though  I  seem  to  be. 

(AZEMA'S  manner  is  characterized  by  the  ex- 
tremest  modesty  and  timidity  through 
out  this  scene.) 

Chrys.  But  why  affect  a  fear  you  do  not  feel  ? 
Azema  (with  extreme  timidity}.  Because,  although 

I  entered  here  to  seek 

Prince  Philamir,  I'm  anxious  he  should  think 
This  meeting  is  a  simple  accident. 
Do  not  suppose  that  this  is  modesty, 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  301 

'Tis  but  an  artifice  to  make  you  think 
That  I  am  timid  as  a  startled  fawn  ! 

Chrys.  (aside  to  PHIL  AMIR).  This  is  a  character. 

I'll  open  fire 

And  storm  her  weakest  point  —  her  vanity. 
Now,  my  artillery  of  compliments, 
A  salvo,  if  you  please.     (Aloud,  with  the  air  of  one 
who  is  paying  an  elaborate  compliment}    I 
have  remarked 

That  you've  a  certain  girlish  prettiness, 
Although  your  nose  is  sadly  underbred. 
(Aside}  That's  rather  neat ! 

Azema.  Are  you  Prince  Philamir  ? 

Chrys.  Not  I,  indeed,  fair  lady.     This  is  he  — 
The  most  conceited  coxcomb  in  the  world  (with  an 
elaborate  bow  to  PHILAMIR,  who  starts  angrily]. 
No  thanks  —  indeed  'tis  true. 

Azema  (to  CHRYSAL).  Then  go  your  way  — 

I  don't  want  you !     I  only  want  the  prince. 
'Twas  Philamir  I  came  to  captivate. 

Chrys.  Here's  candor  if  you  like  ! 

Azema.  Oh,  leave  us,  sir  ! 

Find  some  excuse  to  go,  that  he  and  I 
May  be  alone  together. 

Phil.  Leave  me,  sir. 

I'll  give  your  tongue  a  lesson  ere  the  night ! 

Chrys.  How  has  my  tongue  offended  ?  —  Oh,   I 

see  — 

Exactly  —  don't  explain  !     (Aside)  Poor  Zeolide ! 

{Exit. 


302  THE  PALACE   OF  TRUTH. 

PhiL  Insolent  scoundrel !  {following  him.) 

Azema.  Oh,  don't  follow  him. 

I  want  you  here  alone.     You  can  begin  — 
I  am  not  shy,  though  I  appear  to  be. 
Indeed,  I  entered  here  ten  minutes  since, 
Because  I  heard  from  those  outside  the  gates, 
That  you,  Prince  Philamir,  had  just  arrived. 

Phil.  Then  you're  a  stranger  here  ? 

Azema.  I  am,  indeed  ! 

The  people  told  me  any  one  was  free 
To  enter. 

Phil.        Yes,  quite  right.     Did  they  say  more  ? 

Azema.  Oh,  yes,  much  more.    They  told  me,  then, 

that  you 

Received  but  sorry  treatment  at  the  hands 
Of  Princess  Zeolide.     They  told  me,  too, 
That  your  betrothal  might  ere  long  collapse  ; 
( With  extreme  modesty)  So  thought  I,  as  I  am  be 
yond  dispute 

The  fairest  maid  for  many  a  mile  around  — 
And  as,  moreover,  I  possess  the  gift 
Of  feigning  an  enchanting  innocence, 
I  possibly  may  captivate  the  prince, 
And  fill  the  place  once  filled  by  Zeolide. 

(Sits  ;  her  ankle  is  exposed) 

PhiL  The  Princess  has  a  candid  enemy  ! 
I  beg  your  pardon,  but  the  furniture 
Has  caught  your  dress. 

Azema  (re-arranging    her    dress    hastily)     Oh,    I 
arranged  it  so, 


THE  PALACE   OF  TRUTH.  303 

That  you  might  see  how  truly  beautiful 

My  foot  and  ankle  are  (as  if  much  shocked  at  the 

expose}. 

Phil.  I  saw  them  well, 

They're  very  neat. 

Azema.  I  now  remove  my  glove 

That  you  may  note  the  whiteness  of  my  hand. 
I  place  it  there  in  order  that  you  may 
Be  tempted  to  inclose  it  in  your  own. 

Phil.  To  that  temptation  I  at  once  succumb. 

(Taking  her  hand — she  affects  to  withdraw 

it  angrily?) 
Azema  (with  affected  indignation^)     Go  on  !     If 

you  had  any  enterprise, 

You'd  gently  place  your  arm  around  my  waist 
And  kiss  me.     (Struggling  to  release  herself?) 
Phil.  It  might  anger  you  ! 

Azema.  Oh,  no  ! 

It's  true  that  I  should  start  with  every  show 
Of  indignation,  just  in  order  to 
Maintain  my  character  for  innocence  — 
But  that  is  all. 

Phil,  (puts  his  arm  round  her  and  kisses  her). 

There,  then  —  'tis  done  ! 
Azema  (starting,  with  a  great  show  of  rage).  How, 

sir? 

I  think  it's  time  that  I  should  take  my  leave. 
(Very  indignantly)  I  shall  be  in   the  Avenue   of 

Palms 
At  ten  o'clock  to-night.     I  mention  this 


304  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

That  you  may  take  the  hint  and  be  there,  too ! 

(going) 
Phil.  One  moment,  pray.     Let  me  assure   you 

now, 

That  such  an  unmistakable  coquette, 
And  one  who  shows  her  cards  so  candidly, 
Will  not  supplant  the  Princess  Zeolide  ! 

Azema  (surprised}.     Supplant  the  Princess  Zeo 
lide  ?     Why,  sir, 
By  what  authority  do  you  imply 
That  I  have  cherished  any  such  design  ? 
Phil.  Your  own  admission. 
Azema.  Oh,  impossible  ! 

(Indignantly)  But  as  it  seems  that  I've  no  chance 

with  you, 

I'll  try  the  gentleman  who  left  us  here. 
He  comes ! 

Enter  CHRYSAL. 

Oh,  sir,  I  crave  a  word  with  you ! 
Are  you  a  wealthy  man  ?  (with  extreme  delicacy  of 
manner.) 

Chrys.  I  am,  indeed. 

Azema.  And  you've  a  title  ? 

Chrys.  Yes,  of  highest  rank. 

Azhna.  A  bachelor  ? 

Chrys.  A  bachelor  as  yet, 

Betrothed  to  Palmis. 

Azhna  (shrinking).  Oh !  (Hopefully')  But  possibly 
You  do  not  love  her  much ! 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  305 

Chrys.  (with  enthusiasm).    Oh,  not  at  all ! 
Asema.  You'll  do  —  give  me  your  arm.   (He  does 

so  —  she  shrinks.)     Oh,  sir,  indeed 

(Impatiently  to  CHRYSAL,  who  hesitates)  Do  take 

my  hand  and  put  it  through  your  arm. 
(He  does  so)  That's  it !  Oh,  sir,  indeed  I  know  you 

not! 

[Exeunt  CHRYSAL  and  AZEMA,  —  AZEMA  affect 
ing  to   try  and  release  herself.     PHILAMIR 
stands  astounded  for  a  moment. 
Phil.  I've  found  a  clew  that  solves  these  myste 
ries  ! 

This  palace  is  enchanted  ground  !     It's  plain 
That  there's  some  subtle  influence  at  work, 
Affecting  everybody  here  —  but  me  ! 
Chrysal,  the  honey-tongued,  turns  out  to  be 
A  blunt  and  scurrilous  outspoken  boor ; 
Zoram,  the  musical  enthusiast, 
Can  hardly  tell  the  treble  from  the  bass ; 
Then  Aristaeus,  surly,  blunt  and  gruff, 
Turns  out  to  be  the  gentlest  soul  alive  ; 
And,  most  inexplicable  change  of  all, 
The  amiable  but  prudish  Zeolide 
Becomes  a  foolish  vixen,  blind  with  love, 
Maddened  with  jealous  and  unreasoning  rage  ! 
Then  comes  a  girl  —  a  commonplace  coquette  — 
Who,  while  she  lays  her  plans  with  practiced  skill, 
Explains  their  aim,  and  holds  them  to  the  light 
That  all  may  see  their  arrant  hollowness ! 
It's  evident  there's  some  enchantment  here 


306  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

That  shows  up  human  nature  as  it  is, 
And  I  alone  resist  its  influence ! 
Ah,  here  is  Mirza  —  lovely  paragon  — 
I'll  notice  how  it  operates  on  her. 

Enter  MIRZA. 

Mirza  (starts).  I  beg  your  pardon.     I  was  look 
ing  for 
My  diary  ;  I've  dropped  it  hereabouts. 

Phil.  Allow  me  to  assist  you  in  your  search  ? 

Mirza  (hastily).  No,  no  ;  that  must  not  be.     My 

diary 
Must  ne'er  be  seen  by  other  eyes  than  mine  ! 

Phil.  Indeed !  and  why  ? 

Mirza.  My  very  inmost  thoughts  — . 

The  secret  utterances  of  my  heart  — 
Are  there  inscribed.     I  would  not  for  my  life, 
That  any  eyes  but  mine  should  rest  on  it. 

Phil.  Can  Lady  Mirza  harbor  any  thought 
That  all  the  world  may  not  participate  ? 
I'll  not  believe  it. 

Mirza  (eagerly).  Hush  —  I  charge  you,  sir  ! 
Ask  me  no  questions  here  —  for  I  have  learnt 
That  this  is  fairy  ground,  where  every  one 
Is  bound,  against  his  will,  to  speak  the  truth. 
If  you  interrogate  me,  I  am  bound 
To  answer  truly.     I  need  say  no  more 
To  such  a  courteous  knight  as  Philamir. 

Phil,  (aside].    It  is  then  as  I  thought !  (Aloud) 
I  guessed  the  truth  — 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  307 

This  palace  doubtless  is  enchanted  ground, 
And  I  alone  resist  its  influence  ! 

Mirza.  Indeed ! 

Phil.  I  had  occasion  some  time  since 

To  feign  unbounded  love  for  Zeolide 
(For  whom  I  don't  particularly  care)  : 
Well,  notwithstanding  my  indifference, 
I  spoke  with  all  my  usual  gush  of  love, 
From  which  I  venture  to  conclude  that  I 
Am  unaffected  by  this  magic  power. 

Mirza.  You  do  not  love  the  Princess  Zeolide  ? 
You  who  professed  unutterable  love  ? 

Phil.  I  liked  her  well  enough  at  first,  but  now 
I'm  weary  of  my  liking.     She  displays 
So  much  unreasonable  petulance, 
Such  causeless  anger  —  such  unbridled  wrath, 
That  I'm  resolved  to  break  the  weary  link 
That  binds  us.     I'll  be  free  to  love  again. 

(Taking  MIRZA'S  hand) 

(Mirza  releasing  herself).     Oh,   Philamir!     Oh. 

shame  upon  you,  sir. 

She  loves  you  !  You  are  loved  by  Zeolide  ! 
Why  there's  a  heaven  opened  to  your  eyes, 
And  you'll  not  enter,  Philamir  !  Oh,  shame 
To  blight  so  true  a  heart  as  hers  !  Oh,  fool, 
To  throw  aside  in  wrath  so  fair  a  prize ! 

Phil.  But  listen  —  I've  a  fairer  prize  in  view. 
Mirza  —  I  Ivvzyoul 

Mirza  (shuddering  with  terror).     Spare  me,  sir, 
I  pray ! 


, 


308  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Phil.  Now  by  this  castle's  mystic  influence, 
I  challenge  you  to  answer  truthfully  — 
Do  you  love  me  ? 

Mirza  (shrinking from  kirn}.     Have  pity,  Phila- 

mir ! 

Withdraw  your  question,  I  beseech  you,  sir  ! 
If  you  insist,  I  must  perforce  reply  — 
I  charge  you,  on  your  knighthood,  press  me  not ! 
(PHILAMIR  pauses,  struggling  with  his  feelings. 

Phil,   (releasing  her).    My  Lady  Mirza,  you  are 
free  to  go.  [Exit  MIRZA  hastily. 

How  subtly  works  the  mystic  influence, 
That  all  seem  subject  to,  —  excepting  me  ! 
And  from  the  fearful  ordeal  only  one 
Of  all  the  women  here  comes  out  unscathed. 
The  peerless  Mirza  —  good,  and  wise,  and  pure, 
Most  excellent  and  unapproachable  ! 
To  know  that  Mirza  loves  me,  is  to  know 
That  she  is  mortal  —  that  I  knew  before. 
To  know  that  Mirza' s  worthy  of  my  love, 
And  that,  despite  the  searching  influence 
That  I  alone  resist  —  oh,  this  indeed 
Is  happiness  !  —  I'm  sure  she  loves  me  well ! 

Enter  ZEOLIDE. 

Zeo.  Indeed  she  does !  If  half-an-hour  ago 
She  spoke  abruptly  to  her  Philamir, 
She  bitterly  repents  it.     Oh,  my  love, 
Forgive  me,  for  in  truth  I  love  you  well ! 

Phil,   (embracing  her  fondly).  But  my  remark  did 
not  apply  to  you  ; 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  309 

I  spoke  of  Lady  Mirza. 

Zeo.  (recoiling).  Mirza  ? 

Phil.  Yes, 

I'm  quite  convinced  she  loves  me ! 

Zeo.  Philamir, 

You  should  not  jest  with  such  a  sacred  word. 
You've  played  your  joke  upon  me  and  you've  seen 
How  readily  I  fell  into  the  trap ; 
Let  that  content  you.     There  —  I'm  not  annoyed  — 
I'll  not  be  caught  again  ! 

Phil,   (earnestly).  Dear  Zeolide, 

Indeed  I  do  not  jest  —  nor  did  I  when 
You  left  me  in  unwarrantable  rage. 
I  love  the  Lady  Mirza  —  she  loves  me. 

Zeo.  (horrified).  She  told  you  so  ? 

Phil.  Well,  no.     I'm  bound  to  say 

She  did  not  tell  me  so  in  open  words ; 
Her  love  for  you  restrained  her.     She's  too  good  — 
Too  pure  —  too  honorable  —  to  allow 
A  passion  for  her  dearest  friend's  betrothed 
To  master  her.     You  should  have  heard  her  plead 
Your  hopeless  cause.     She  struggles  with  her  love, 
And  tries  to  keep  it  down  —  but  still  she  loves. 

Zeo.  (astounded).  And  you  return  this  love  ? 

Phil.  Most  heartily. 

(With  affectionate  gesture).    I'm  getting  weary  of 

you,  and  I  wish 

That  I  could  find  sufficient  argument 
To  justify  me  in  releasing  you.  (She  shrinks  from 
him.) 


3io  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Why  now  you  frown  again  !     Oh,  Zeolide, 
This  willfulness  is  insupportable  ! 

Zeo.    (enraged}.     Support    it    then    no    longer, 

Philamir ! 

There  —  you  are  free  —  our  bond  is  at  an  end  ; 
Choose  your  path,  I'll   choose   mine.     Our  roads 

diverge. 

We  part  and  may  not  meet  again.     Farewell ! 
(Changing  her  manner)    Oh,  Philamir,  hee<^  not  my 

words,  I  spoke 

In  reckless  haste  —  I  spoke  my  death-warrant ! 
Philamir,  do  not  leave  me,  let  me  live ; 
See  how  I  love  you  !     I  am  at  your  feet  — 
I,  Zeolide,  whom  once  you  thought  so  cold  — 
I,  Zeolide,  who  am  not  wont  to  kneel ! 
Oh,  give  me  till  to-night,  and  pass  the  hours 
That  intervene  in  marshaling  the  past, 
And  let  that  plead  my  cause  !     You  loved  me  once, 
You  asked  me  for  my  love  —  I  gave  my  life, 
For  I  must  die  if  you  abandon  me  ! 
Have  mercy  on  me  !     Give  me  till  to-night ! 
There's  some  enchantment  in  this  fearful  place. 
This  is  not  Philamir  —  it  is  his  shape, 
But  does  not  hold  his  soul.     Before  the  night 
I'll  seek  my  father,  and  I'll  gain  from  him 
The  key  that  solves  this  fearful  mystery. 
Go  now  —  nay,  do  not  speak  —  no  —  not  a  word  — 
I'll  not  believe  that  this  is  Philamir. 
Go,  leave  me  now  —  and  we  will  meet  to-night ! 

[He  hesitates  ;  then  exit. 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  311 

Oh,  Philamir,  my  love,  my  love,  my  love !  (She 
falls  sobbing  on  couch). 

Enter  PALMIS. 

Palmis.  What  ?  Zeolide  in  tears  ?    Has  Philamir 
Been  too  emphatic  in  his  vows  of  love  ? 
Have  pity  on  him  ! 

Zeo.  Palmis,  pity  me  — 

He  loves  me  not ! 

Palmis.  Indeed  ? 

Zeo.  He  told  me  so. 

Palmis  (relieved].  Oho  !  He  told  you  so  ? 

Zeo.  Most  openly. 

Palmis.  Then  there  is  hope  for  you.     Come  dry 

your  eyes  ; 

When  men  are  over  head  and  ears  in  love, 
They  can  not  tell  the  truth  —  they  must  deceive, 
Though  the  deception  tell  against  themselves  ! 
Here  Chrysal  comes  —  (astonished}  a  lady  on  his 
arm ! 

Enter  CHRYSAL   and  AZEMA —  he  leaves  AZEMA 
abruptly  on  seeing  PALMIS. 

Palmis.  Why,  Chrysal,  who  is  this  ?    Where  have 
you  been  ? 

Chrys.  (affectionately).    I   have   been   wandering 

through  shady  groves 
With  that  exceedingly  attractive  girl. 

Palmis.  You  have  been  flirting,  sir  ? 

Chrys.  (putting  his  arm  round  her  waist).   Ex 
ceedingly  ! 


3i2  THE   PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

I  always  do  when  I'm  away  from  you. 

Palmis  (to  AZEMA).  Oh,  you're  a  brazen  woman  ! 

Azhna  (with  great  modesty).  That  I  am  ! 

An  ordinary  every-day  coquette, 
Who  lives  on  admiration,  and  resolves 
To  gain  it  by  whatever  means  she  can. 

Zeo.  (aside  to  PALMIS).  Palmis,  there's  some  en 
chantment  in  this  place  — 
I  know  not  what  —  it  influences  all. 
Do  not  dismiss  him  yet,  until  we  learn 
Its  nature ! 

Chrys.  (with   affection).    Yes,   my   Palmis,   wait 

awhile, 

Do  not  dismiss  me  yet ;  although  it's  true 
I  never  loved  you,  yet  I  want  your  love 
Because  you  have  much  influence  at  Court, 
And  have  it  in  your  power  to  help  me  on 
To  further  favor. 

Palmis  (astounded).  Chrysal,  are  you  mad  ? 
You  never  loved  me  ? 

Chrys.  (enthusiastically).  Never,  on  my  soul ! 
In  point  of  fact,  I  always  hated  you, 
And  mean  to  tell  you  so  when  I  have  won 
The  highest  rank  your  mistress  can  confer. 
In  the  mean  time,  however,  I  am  fain 
To  make  you  think  that  I  adore  you  still. 
Observe  the  heaving  of  my  swelling  heart ; 
My  fervid  manner  —  my  ecstatic  gaze  — 
It's  all  assumed ! 

Palmis.  Oh,  miserable  man  ! 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  313 

Go  —  get  you  hence,  sir. 

Chrys.  (astonished}.         Palmis,  what  on  earth 
Possesses  you  ? 

Palmis.  Don't  speak  to  me  again, 

I  can't  endure  you  ! 

Re-enter  ZORAM. 

Zor.  I  am  glad  of  this. 

Dear  Palmis,  I  for  many  a  weary  day 
Have  sought  to  win  your  love  from  Chrysal  here, 
By  every  mean,  contemptible  device 
That  my  unequaled  cunning  could  suggest. 

Chrys.  (amazed}.  And  you  admit  this  to  my  very 
face  ? 

Zor.  (cordially).  With  pleasure,  Chrysal.     I  have 

sought  in  vain, 

By  daily  blackening  your  character, 
To  sicken  pretty  Palmis  of  her  love. 
I've  told  her  you're  an  unexampled  rake, 
A  gambler  and  a  spendthrift,  mean,  poor,  base, 
Selfish  and  sordid  ;  cruel,  tyrannical ; 
But  all  in  vain,  she  loves  you  all  the  more. 
(Taking  his  hand}  Forget   the   angry  words   you 

spoke  to-day ; 

In  the  glad  glow  of  hope  that  I  shall  gain 
Your  Palmis'  love,  I  freely  pardon  you. 

Chrys.   (in  furious  rage}.  This   evening,  in    the 

Avenue  of  Palms, 
I  shall  await  you,  sir. 

Zor.  (in  blank  astonishment).  Oh  dear,  oh  dear, 


314  THE  PALACE   OF  TRUTH. 

What  have  I  said  ? 

Enter  GELANOR. 
G/lan.  Hush,  gentlemen  —  the  Queen. 

Re-enter  QUEEN.  ALTEMIRE  hastily. 

Altem.   (in  a  rage}.  Where  is  the  King  ?     Go, 

send  him  here  to  me. 
Oh,  Zeolide,  go,  get  you  hence  away, 
For  I  have  words  for  Phanor  that  'twere  best 
His  daughter  did  not  hear. 

Zeo.  My  father  comes. 

Re-enter  PHANOR  and  MIRZA. 

Altem.  Now,  sir,  I've  every  reason  to  believe, 
From  what  I've  heard,  that  you're  deceiving  me  ! 
I'll  question  you  —  oh,  infamous  old  man  ! 

Phan.  (aside).  The  Queen  is  jealous.     Where's 

my  talisman  ?  (finds  it.) 
All  right  —  it's  well  I  have  it  with  me  now. 
(Aloud)  Interrogate  me.     Conscious  innocence 
Has  little  fear  of  Palaces  of  Truth  ! 

Altem.  You  have  been  walking  in  the  shrubbery, 
What  were  you  doing  there  ? 

Phan.  (with  great  show  of  love  for  ALTEMIRE). 

Why,  making  love 
To  Mirza.     I  invariably  do 
Whenever  I've  a  chance  ;  but  all  in  vain. 
She's  a  good  woman,  and  despises  me. 
(To  MIRZA)  Haven't  I  offered  love  to  you  ? 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  315 

Mirza.  You  have. 

Phan.  And  you  despise  me,  don't  you  ? 

Mirza.  Heartily. 

Phan.  (to  ALTEMIRE).  I  told  you  so,  and  she  in 
dorses  it. 
Believe  me,  I  am  bound  to  speak  the  truth  ! 

A  Item,  (bitterly).  I  do  believe  you. 

Phan.    (taking  her  by  the  hand}.     Thank   you, 
Altemire. 

Altem.  Stand  off,  don't  touch  me,  horrible  old 

man ! 
You  tell  me  you've  made  love  to  Mirza  ? 

Phan.  (astonished}.  No ! 

Did  I  say  that  ? 

Altem.  Most  unmistakably. 

Phan.  Oh,  come,  I  say  ! 

Zor.  You  did  indeed,  my  lord  ! 

Phan.  I  said  that  I  made  love  to  Mirza  ? 

Chrys.  Yes, 

Those  were  the  very  words  ! 

Phan.  Oh,  Mirza,  come, 

You  can  deny  this  ! 

Mirza.  Would,  my  lord,  I  could. 

To  spare  the  Queen  I  would  be  silent,  but 
Some  unknown  power  masters  me,  and  makes 
Me  own,  against  my  will,  that  it  was  so  ! 

Altem.  There,  sir  —  you  hear  her  words  ! 

Phan.  (aside  to  GELANOR).  Why,  Gelanor, 

How's  this  ?     The  talisman  is  out  of  gear ! 

(Showing  box  to  GELANOR). 


316  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Gttan.  Let  me  examine  it.     (Takes   it  and  re 
turns  it.}     A  forgery ! 
A  clever  imitation  ;  virtueless  ! 
It  lacks  the  small  inscription  on  the  hinge ! 

(PHANOR  falls  breathless  into  a  chair ^ 
Phan.  To-morrow  morning  we  go  home  again  ! 


ACT   III. 

SCENE.  —  The  Avenue  of  Palms  —  night.    CHRYSAL 
discovered  with  a  drawn  sword  in  his  hand. 

Enter  GELANOR. 

Gtlan.  Chrysal,  alone  !  And  with  a  naked  sword  ! 

Chrys.  I'm  waiting  Zoram.     I  have  challenged 

him. 
He  meets  me  here  —  the  Avenue  of  Palms. 

G/lan.  Has  he  offended  you  ? 

Chrys.  Most  grievously. 

You  heard  the  words  he  used  to  me  to-day  ? 

Gelan.  I  did. 

Chrys.        Then  blood  must  flow.    I  am  a  knight. 
My  knightly  honor  claims  this  sacrifice, 
I've  been  insulted  —  one  of  us  must  die  ! 

Gelan.  You  are  a  valiant  man,  if  one  may  judge 
By  your  demeanor. 

Chrys.  (very  valiantly).  My  demeanor  ?  Bounce ! 
Mere  idle  empty  froth  and  nothing  more. 
Why,  notwithstanding  that  I  look  so  brave, 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  317 

I'd  give  the  riches  of  a  universe 
To  find  some  decent  means  of  backing  out ; 
But,  no,  my  honor  must  be  satisfied  ! 
If  I  endured  with  patience  Zoram's  taunts, 
I  should  deserve  to  have  my  knightly  spurs 
Struck  from  my  heels!  'Sdeath,  sir,  I'm  bound  to 
fight! 

Gelan.  Is  Zoram  a  good  swordsman  ? 

Chrys.  Not  at  all. 

I'm  far  more  skilled  —  but  still  I  can't  repress 
A  certain  sense  of  terror.     Accident 
May  give  him  victory. 

Gelan.  Apologize  \ 

Chrys.  (indignantly).  To  Zoram  ?  Never !  Would 

you  have  me  stain 

My  hitherto  untarnished  'scutcheon  ?     Shame  ! 
Stand  back  —  he  comes  ! 

Enter  ZORAM,  with  drawn  sword. 

Well,  sir,  you've  kept  your  word. 

Zor.  Of  course  I  have  ! 

Chrys.  (very  sternly}.  I'm  very  much  surprised  — 
I  may  say  disappointed  —  to  remark 
That  you're  prepared  to  fight,  and  do  not  show 
The  signs  of  terror  that  I  hoped  to  see. 

Zor.  (very  bravely}.     Oh,  sir,  I  pray  you   don't 

deceive  yourself ! 

My  valiant  manner  hides  an  inward  fear 
That  almost  robs  me  of  the  power  of  thought ! 
Chrysal,  you've  grievously  insulted  me, 


3i8  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

My  sense  of  honor  forces  me  to  fight ! 
But  I  would  rather  have  my  hand  cut  off 
(Could  that  be  done  without  inflicting  pain) 
Than  measure  swords  with  you  ! 

Chrys.  You  craven  hound  ! 

Zor.  Craven  yourself! 

Chrys.  {furiously).    I  am,  but  you  don't  know  it, 
You  musical  impostor ! 

Zor.  Ha,  what's  that  ? 

I  can  stand  much  abuse  and  never  flinch, 
But  when  you  twit  me  with  my  ignorance 
Of  musical  expressions,  blood  alone 
(Unless  we're  interrupted)  can  extract 
The  venom  of  the  insult !     Come  !     On  guard  ! 

(They  fight.) 

G/lan.  (aside).  These  donkeys  must  not  fight! 

(Aloud}  Come  —  let  me  try 
To  reconcile  you. 

Chrys.  Reconcile  us  ?     No  ! 

But  you  can  interfere  to  stop  the  fight !  (They  desist} 

Zor.  (looking  reproachfully  at  GELANOR).    I  little 

thought  when  I  called  Chrysal  on, 
That  such  a  venerable  gentleman 
Would  suffer  two  impetuous  headstrong  youths 
To  cut  each  other's  throats. 

Gclan.  Come,  come  —  desist. 

Chrys.  This  hound  abused  me  ! 

Zor.  He  insulted  me  ! 

Both.  Our  honor  must  be  satisfied  ! 

(They  cross  swords} 


THE  PALACE   OF  TRUTH.  319 

Ge'lan.  No,  no  — 

Attend  to  me.     Within  these  crystal  walls 
A  strange  mysterious  influence  prevails  : 
All  men  are  bound  to  speak  the  plainest  truth ! 
And  this  they  do,  without  suspecting  it. 
(To  ZORAM)  When  Chrysal  spoke  the  words  that 

angered  you 

He  did  not  mean  to  speak  them.     He  believed 
That  he  was  paying  you  a  compliment. 
(To  CHRYSAL)    When  Zoram  said  that  he  consid 
ered  you 

A  systematic  liar,  mean,  poor,  base, 
Selfish,  and  sordid,  cruel,  tyrannical, 
' T was  what  he  thouglit — not  what  he  would  have 
said  ! 

Chrys.  I  see  —  if  that  was  only  what  he  thought 
It  makes  a  difference. 

Gttan.  What  could  he  say  ? 

He  -was  compelled,  you  know,  to  speak  the  truth. 

Chrys.  Of  course,  I  understand.      Zoram,  your 
hand! 

Zor.     With    pleasure.       (Shaking    hands    with 

CHRYSAL.)  Chrysal,  I  should  like  to  say 
That  I  esteem  you  —  but  indeed  I  can't. 
My  detestation  of  you  knows  no  bounds. 

Chrys.  How,  sir  ?     A  fresh  affront  ? 

Zor.  What  can  I  do  ? 

I  try  my  best  to  say  agreeable  things, 
But  you're  so  utterly  contemptible  ! 
I'd  put  it  more  politely,  but  I  can't ! 


32o  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

I'm  bound  against  my  will  to  speak  the  truth ! 
I'd  not  insult  you  openly,  for  worlds  — 
Indeed,  it's  only  what  I  think  of  you ! 

CJuys.  If  it  is  only  what  you  think  of  me, 
Why  say  no  more  ;  give  me  your  hand  again  — 
My  knightly  honor's  amply  satisfied  ! 

[  They  sheathe  their  swords,  then  exeunt  arm 

in  arm. 
Ge'lan.  So   dies   that  breeze  away !     Oh,    honor, 

honor ! 

Let  no  one  take  you  at  the  estimate 
Your  self-elected  champions  price  you  at ! 
More  harm  is  worked  in  that  one  virtue's  name, 
Than  springs  from  half  the  vices  of  the  earth  ! 

Enter  QUEEN  ALTEMIRE,  in  violent  rage. 

A  Item.  Why,  Gelanor,  this  is  no  spot  for  you, 
You'd  better  go  —  the  King  will  wish  you  gone. 

Gelan.  Indeed  !     And  why  ? 

Alt  em.  I'll  tell  you,  Gelanor, 

His  majesty  has  an  appointment  here. 
Oh,  Gelanor,  I've  been  alone  with  him 
This  afternoon,  and  I  have  learnt  such  things ! 
Why,  even  here  —  despite  the  castle's  charm, 
Despite  the  sacred  influence  of  the  place, 
He  prosecutes  his  infidelities  ! 
At  first  he  persecuted  Mirza,  but 
Failing  to  find  much  favor  in  her  eyes, 
He  looked  for  other  game.     Why,  Gelanor, 
He  meets  some  woman  called  Azema  here, 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  321 

At  ten  o'clock  to-night ! 

Gelan.  The  deuce  he  does  ! 

A  Item.  Then  I  resolved  to  know  the  very  worst. 
I  locked  him  in  my  room  and  questioned  him 
For  full  three  hours  about  his  married  life. 
Oh,  I  elicited  such  fearful  things  ! 
Why,  Gelanor,  there's  not  a  woman's  name 
In  all  the  long  baptismal  catalogue 
That's  not  identified  with  his  intrigues  ! 
Tall,  short,  stout,  slender,  fair,  dark,  old  and  young, 
High,  low,  rich,  poor,  good,  bad,  maid,  widow,  wife, 
Of  every  country  and  of  every  clime  ! 
All's  fish  that  his  nets  catch ! 

Gelan.  And  a  king's  net 

Is  very  comprehensive.     Here  she  comes  ! 

Enter  AZEMA. 

Alt  em.  Is  this  the  woman  ?     Tell  me,  who  are 
you  ? 

Azema.  I  am  Azema. 

Altem.  And  /  am  the  Queen  ! 

Azema.  (bowing).  Then,  madam,  you're  extremely 
in  the  way. 

Altem.  How  so  ? 

Azema.  I've  an  appointment  with  the  King, 

Of  which  you  are  entirely  unaware  ; 
But  though  I'm  much  annoyed  to  find  you  here, 
I'm  glad  to  find  you  here  with  Gelanor. 

Altem.  And  why  ? 

Azema.          If  our  intrigue  should  come  to  light, 


322  THE  PALACE   OF  TRUTH. 

We  can  retaliate  by  giving  out 

That  you  and  Gelanor  are  just  as  bad. 

A  Item.  Upon  my  word  ! 

Gelan.  Oh,  this  is  past  belief ! 

Altem.  Infamous  hussy,  you  shall  pay  for  this  ! 

Azema.  Why,  madam,  how  have  /  offended  you  ? 

Altem.  How  ?  —  you  are  here  to  meet  the  King, 

alone  ; 
At  night  —  by  pre-arrangement  —  in  the  dark  ! 

Azema.  Oh,  madam,  this  indeed  is  terrible  ! 
That  poor  Azema  should  be  charged  with  this  ! 
It's  true  I've  an  appointment  with  the  King, 
But  as  you're  not  aware  of  it,  your  words 
Are  utterly  unjustifiable. 
These  flashing  eyeballs  and  this  angry  blush 
(At  least  I  hope  I'm  blushing)  represent 
The  noble  rage  of  outraged  innocence. 
I'll  to  the  King,  and  let  him  know  at  once 
How,  as  I  wandered  through  the  grove,  alone, 
7  found  you  here  with  wicked  Gelanor, 
At  night  —  by  pre-arrangement  —  in  the  dark. 
Oh,  shame  upon  you  —  shame  upon  you,  Queen! 

[Exit  AZEMA  —  ALTEMIRE  and  GELANOR  stand 

confounded. 
Gtlan.  Your  majesty,  I  think  I'd  better  go. 

Altem.  Absurd!  the  notion  is  preposterous ! 
You're  old  enough  to  be  my  father. 

Gelan.  Quite ! 

And  wise  enough  to  know  that  proper  folk 
Will  only  say  "  that  makes  the  matter  worse !  " 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  323 

Altem.  But  surely  here,  in  this  enchanted  home, 
Where  all  are  bound  to  speak  the  truth,  our  word 
Will  guarantee  our  perfect  innocence  ! 

Gelan.  Yes,  if  the  King  is  pleased  to  take  our  word ; 
But,  as  you've  brought  a  charge  against  the  King, 
Analogous  to  that  which  will  be  brought 
Against  ourselves,  he  may  ignore  the  fact 
That  truth  is  truth.     No,  no,  upon  the  whole, 
I  think,  your  majesty,  I'd  better  go  ! 

\Exit  GELANOR. 

Enter  PALMIS  and  ZEOLIDE,  ZEOLIDE  weeping. 

Palmis.  Nay,  do  not  weep,  dear  mistress. 

Zeo.  Ah,  my  friend, 

What  comfort  can  you  offer  me  ? 

Palmis.  I've  heard 

That  when  one  is  oppressed  with  weight  of  woe, 
Some  solace  may  be  found  in  dwelling  on 
The  grief  of  one  more  sorely  laden  still. 

Zeo.  More  sorely  laden  ?     Where  will  Zeolide 
Find  one  whose  misery  outweighs  her  own  ? 

Palmis.  Your  misery,  though  great,  is  but  a  grain 
When  balanced  in  the  scales  with  mine  ! 

Zeo.  With  yours  ? 

Palmis.  Yes  ;  Philamir  respects  you.  He  esteems 
Your  moral  excellence,  although  no  doubt 
He  does  not  love  you  as  a  lover  should  ; 
But  Chrysal  always  hated  me,  and  sought 
To  gain  that  love  I  gave  so  willingly 
To  hasten  his  promotion  at  the  Court. 


324  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Your  case  and  mine  are  different.     Besides, 
You  angered  Philamir.     I  never  gave 
My  Chrysal  any  reason  for  his  hate. 

Zeo.  How  did  I  anger  him  ? 

Palmis.  Your  petulance 

Annoyed  him. 

Zeo.  Petulance  !     He  told  me  that 

He  only  liked  me ! 

Altem.  (coming  forward}.  True,  but  you  forget 
He  was  compelled  to  speak  the  plainest  truth, 
And  knew  not  that  he  spoke  it.     He  believed 
(While  he  was  telling  you  he  loved  you  not) 
That  he  was  breathing  ardent  words  of  love  ; 
Believing  this,  your  reasonable  rage 
Seemed  in  his  eyes  irrational  caprice, 
And  changed  his  waning  love  to  sheer  dislike. 

Zeo.  Is  this  the  truth  then  ? 

Altem.  Yes,  I  think  it  is. 

The  test  has  been  exceedingly  severe. 

Zeo.  I'll  wed  no  man  who  can  not  stand  this  test. 

Palmis.     Then,  Zeolide,  you'll  surely  die  a  maid  ! 

Altem.  Come,  come,  be  reasonable.     Philamir 
Is  but  a  man  —  a  vain  and  idle  one, 
But  under  this  veneer  of  coxcombry 
There's  sterling  stuff.     The  man  is  honest  gold, 
And  vanity  has  silver-plated  him. 

Palmis.  At  all  events,  you  know  he  likes  you  well. 
How  many  maidens  when  they  wed  a  man 
Have  reason  to  be  sure  of  half  as  much  ! 

Zeo.  But  then  his  love  for  Mirza ! 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  325 

Alt  em.  Idle  pique  ! 

No  doubt  he  hoped  —  as  other  lovers  hope  — 
In  the  fierce  whirlpool  of  a  new-born  love 
To  drown  remembrance  of  the  love  just  dead. 
Here  comes  the  Lady  Mirza  !     We  will  go, 
And  leave  you  with  her.     Tell  her  every  thing  ; 
She  is  a  noble  lady  —  wise  and  pure  ! 
She  will  not  rob  you  of  your  Philamir. 
There— tell  her  all! 

Zeo.  Forgive  me,  mother  dear, 

My  heart  is  softened.     I  have  been  unjust 

\Exeunt  ALTEMIRE  and  PALMIS. 

Enter  MIRZA. 

Mirza.  Oh,  Zeolide,  I  know  what  you  would  say. 
Say  on,  dear  Zeolide,  and  have  no  fear. 

Zeo.  Mirza,  for  three  long  years  we  two  have  been 
As  sisters  are,  and  I  would  speak  to  you 
As  younger  sister  speaks  to  elder-born. 
Give  me  your  counsel,  Mirza,  it  will  be 
As  pure,  as  true,  as  honest  as  those  eyes. 

Mirza.  If  counsel  such  as  mine  can  serve  you 

aught, 
'Tis  thine,  dear  Zeolide.     My  sister,  speak. 

Zeo.  With  all  my  soul  I  love  Prince  Philamir. 
A  lady  —  good  and  beautiful  and  wise  — 
Unwittingly  hath  robbed  me  of  my  love  ; 
She  is  too  pure,  too  gentle,  too  divine, 
To  seek  a  love  that  rightly  is  not  hers. 

No,  no,  this  lady  hath  not  sought  his  love  — 
28 


326  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Of  that  I'm  certain,  yet  sfae  hath  his  love  ! 
Oh,  Mirza,  when  my  Philamir  declared 
His  love  for  me,  I  cast  away  the  world 
To  enter  Paradise.     Now,  Philamir 
Has  led  this  lady  (all  unwillingly) 
Within  its  gates,  and  I  am  left  without  — 
A  lonely  wanderer  'twixt  earth  and  heaven. 
Mirza,  dear  sister,  say — what  shall  I  do? 
Give  me  thy  counsel  —  I'll  abide  by  it. 

Mirza.  No  need  to  speak  to  me  in  parable. 
I  am  that  lady  whom  you  over-praise  — 
That  most  unhappy  woman,  Zeolide  ! 
Despite  myself,  I  must  admit  the  truth, 
I  do  love  Philamir —  shrink  not  from  me. 
Mine  is  no  idle  love.     Four  years  ago, 
Ere  you  had  ever  seen  Prince  Philamir, 
I  was  a  lady  of  his  father's  Court. 
He  loved  me  even  then,  and  I  loved  him  — 
No  need  to  tell  you,  dearest  Zeolide, 
The  nature  of  that  love ;  you  know  too  well 
How  women  love  who  love  Prince  Philamir ! 
We  were  betrothed,  but  secretly.     Alas  ! 
I  was  a  humble  waiting  lady,  he 
A  mighty  Prince  —  so  we  concealed  our  love. 
Then  it  was  rumored  that  he  sought  your  hand, 
That  policy,  the  curse  of  kings,  required 
That  he  should  marry  you.     Then  I  fell  ill  — 
(Struggling  with  her  emotion}  Pass  over  that.     Let 

it  suffice  that  I 
Released  him  —  for  I  loved  him  passing  well ! 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  327 

Zeo.  (amazed).  I  never  knew  of  this  ! 

Mirsa.                                                    No,  Zeolide, 
I've  learnt  to  bear  my  sorrow  silently. 
But  for  the  sacred  genius  of  this  spot, 
Whose  influence  no  mortal  can  resist, 
My  secret  would  have  passed  away  with  me. 
But  I  was  true  to  you  ;  for  though  I  saw 
How  coldly  you  received  his  vows  of  love 

Zeo.  (rising  astonished}.    Coldly !      Why,  every 

word  he  spoke  to  me 
Rang  through  my  brain,  and  would  have  waked  up 

love 
Had  love  been  dead  ! 

Mirsa.  I  thought  you  loved  him  not. 

But  though  I  grieved  for  him,  yet  when  he  spake 
(As  he  at  times  would  speak)  of  our  old  love, 
I  checked  him  with  a  simulated  scorn, 
For  then,  dear  Zeolide,  I  loved  you  both  ! 

Zeo.  You  love  me  still  ? 

Mirsa.  Most  heartily ! 

Zeo.  .  Why,  then, 

Have  mercy  on  me,  give  me  Philamir  — 
He  is  the  soul  and  essence  of  my  life  ! 
Dear  sister  Mirza,  give  him  back  to  me. 
Oh,  rather  take  my  life  than  take  my  love, 
And  leave  me  here  to  linger  on,  alone ! 

Mirza.  Fear  not,  dear  Zeolide,  I  love  him  well, 
But  I  will  never  see  his  face  again ! 

Zeo.  Promise  me  this  —  swear  to  renounce  his 
love! 


328  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Mirza.    As  there's  a  shining  sun  in  heaven  I 

swear ! 

See,  I  am  brave,  and  I  will  fight  my  love 
As  I  have  fought  ere  this.     Take  courage,  dear, 
I'll  leave  this  place  to-night,  and  Philamir 
Shall  ne'er  set  eyes  upon  my  face  again. 
There,  go  —  I'll  tell  him  this.     He's  coming  now  — 
Go  dry  your  eyes  —  he  should  not  see  them  so. 
Come  back  again  when  they  are  at  their  best. 

[Exit  Zeolide. 

Enter  PHILAMIR. 

Phil.  Mirza —  I  have  some  words  to  say  to  you  — 
The  diary  you  lost  to-day  ? 

Mirza  (eagerly}.  Well,  sir, 

And  have  you  found  it  ? 

Phil.  Mirza,  I  have  found 

A  portion  of  it  —  one  loose  leaf  —  behold  ! 

(Producing  page. ) 

Mirza.  And  you  have  read  it,  Philamir  ? 

Phil,  (guiltily}.  I  have  ! 

Mirza.  Oh,  shame  upon  you  —  shame  upon  you, 

sir ! 
You  gave  your  knightly  word  —  you  are  forsworn  ! 

Phil.  But,  Mirza,  hear  me  out,  ere  you  condemn. 
I  saw  a  paper  tossed  before  the  wind, 
And  little  dreaming  'twas  your  diary, 
I  picked  it  up.     I  knew  not  what  it  was 
Till  I  began  to  read  it.     Then  I  knew, 
And  knowing  so  much,  burnt  to  know  still  more ! 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  329 

Mirza.  But  when  you  knew  it  held  my  secret 

thoughts, 
You  read  no  further  ? 

Phil,  (abashed}.         Mirza,  I  read  on  ! 

Mirza.  Lost !    lost !     Give  me  that  leaf,  Prince 

Philamir  ; 
You  have  deceived  me,  sir  —  I  trusted  you. 

Phil.  But,  Mirza,  where  is  the  knight  who  would 

have  stopped 

When  of  himself  he  read  such  words  as  these  ?  — 
(Reads]  "  I  still  love  Philamir,  but  I  must  strive 
To  battle  with  my  love.     Oh,  give  me  grace 
To  fight  this  fight." 

Mirza.  I  charge  you  read  no  more  ! 

Phil.  "  By  day  his  every  look  —  his  every  word  — 
Renews  some  mem'ry  that  should  be  long  dead ; 
By  night  the  phantom  of  my  loved  one's  face 
Burns  in  my  eyes  and  robs  me  of  my  rest !  " 

Mirza.  My  secret  has  gone  forth.     I   strove  to 

keep 

That  love  as  silent  as  my  silent  heart ; 
But  it  was  not  to  be.     You  now  know  all ! 
Yet  no  —  not  all ! 

Phil.  Then,  Mirza,  tell  me  all. 

Speak  openly  —  hide  nothing  from  me  now. 

Mirza.  I  will  speak  openly.     I  love  you,  sir  ; 
And,  loving  you,  I  leave  the  Court  to-night, 
That  I  may  never  see  your  face  again. 

Phil.  Recall  those  words  !  —  we  will  not —  must 
not  part !  (He  detains  her.) 
28* 


330  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Enter  ZEOLIDE,  unobserved. 

Mirza.  Release  me,  Philamir,  and  let  me  go ! 
I  love  you !     Let  me  hide  myself  away. 
I  love  you  !     Leave  me  with  myself  alone. 
I  love  you  !     Show  me  gratitude  for  this, 
And  leave  me  free  to  sanctify  my  vow, 
For  I  have  sworn  to  see  your  face  no  more ! 
*  Phil.  To  whom  have  you  sworn  this  ? 

Mirza.  To  Zeolide, 

Whom  you  once  loved  so  well  —  who  still  loves  you. 

Phil.  I  never  loved  her,  Mirza  —  who  is  she, 
That  she  should  come  between  me  and  my  love  ? 
She  loves  me  not,  and  I  have  done  with  her. 

Mirza.  Oh,  this  will  kill  her,  sir ! 

Zeo.  No  —  Mirza  —  no  ! 

It  will  not  kill  me.     I  can  bear  this  blow. 

(Coming  forward?) 

Prince  Philamir,  we  two  have  been  betrothed  — 
Your  word  is  plighted  —  well,  I  set  you  free. 
Mirza,  you  swore  to  leave  Prince  Philamir  — 
Your  word  is  plighted  —  well,  I  set  you  free. 
(She  takes  JAiKL^  hand  and  places  it  in  PHILAMIR'S.) 
Oh,  Philamir  —  this  is  indeed  the  end  ! 
Be  true  to  her — such  sacred  love  as  hers 
Should  purify  its  object  —  oh,  be  true ! 
I'm  but  a  chapter  in  your  book  of  life, 
I  who  had  thought  to  be  the  book  itself ! 
The  chapter's  ended,  and  to  Zeolide 
The  book  is  closed  forever  !     Philamir, 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  331 

When  you  are  tempted  to  do  Mirza  wrong, 

Turn    to    that    chapter  —  read    it    through    and 

through  — 

And  let  the  tale  of  all  that  I  have  borne 
Warn  you  from  fresh  inconstancy ;  my  grief 
May  thus  be  Mirza's  safeguard  to  the  end. 
Mirza —  my  sister  —  he  will  love  you  well — 
Here,  in  the  home  of  truth,  he  tells  you  so. 
May  you  be  happy  in  his  new-born  love, 
May  he  be  worthy  of  such  love  as  yours  — 
(To  PHIL  AMIR)  Speak  not,  but  let  me  go. 

(Kisses  MIRZA'S  forehead^ 
Farewell  —  farewell ! 

[Exit  ZEOLIDE,  weeping  —  PHILAMIR  and 
MIRZA  stand  for  a  moment  gazing  at  each 
other —  then  they  fall  into  each  other  s  arms. 

Phil.  Mirza,  my  own  !   At  last  —  at  last  my  own ! 

Mirza.  Oh,  Philamir !  I  am  so  cruelly  racked 
By  sentiments  I  can  not  reconcile, 
I  know  not  whether  this  is  joy  or  grief  ! 
True,  when  I  think  of  Philamir,  the  air 
Seems  charged  with  music,  and  the  earth  I  tread 
All  flowers.     When  I  remember  Zeolide 
I  could  go  mad  with  sorrow ! 

PhiL  Then,  my  love, 

Think  not  of  Zeolide  ! 

Mirza.  Ah,  Philamir, 

You  speak  as  men  speak  of  a  worn-out  love. 
You  only  know  one  kind  of  love,  you  men ! 
My  love  for  Zeolide  is  otherwise, 


332  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Unselfish,  generous,  a  sister's  love. 

Yet  I  have  stolen  from  her  gentle  heart 

That  which  in  all  the  world  she  loved  the  best ! 

Phil.    You  are  too  sensitive.     Say,  rather,  she 
Hath  freely  given  that  she  prizes  least. 

Mirza.  Oh,  Philamir,  indeed  you  do  her  wrong, 
And  may  perchance  wrong  me,  as  you  wronged  her. 

Phil,  (rising).     Impossible  !    For  if  the  words  I 

breathe 

Were  dashed  with  any  mockery  of  love, 
I  should  against  my  will,  confess  it  now. 
Mirza,  I  love  you !     These  are  idle  words 
When  spoken  in  the  unenchanted  world, 
But,  spoken  here,  they  bear  significance 
That  rivals  in  its  worth  a  life-long  test ! 
Let  us  exchange  some  trinket  which  shall  serve 
As  evidence  of  this  our  solemn  troth. 
Here  is  my  pledge.  (Giving  a  ring.) 

Mirza.  My  love,  what  can  I  give  ? 

I  have  no  trinkets  —  I  am  very  poor  ! 

Phil.   A    handkerchief  —  a    glove  —  no    matter 

what ! 

(She  feels  in  pocket  and  takes  out  handkerchief 
—  the  crystal  box  falls  out  with  it  —  he  picks 
it  up  and  retains  it.) 

This  crystal  box  —  nay,  give  it  me,  'twill  serve 
To  chronicle 

Mirza  (hastily).  No,  no,  Prince  Philamir  ! 
Not  that  —  not  that !  it  is  a  talisman  ! 

Phil.  Then  I  will  steal  it  as  I  stole  your  heart, 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  333 

And  I  will  keep  it  while  I  keep  that  heart. 

Mirza.  Give  me  that  box,   or  I  must  own  the 

truth  — 
That  I  am  miserably  false  to  all ! 

(Throwing  herself  at  /its  feet.) 
That  my  morality  is  all  assumed  ! 
That  I  am  mean, 'and  base,  and  treacherous  ! 
A  shameless  schemer  !  heartless  —  impudent ! 
Give  me  that  box,  or  I  must  own  that  I 
Abstracted  it  from  Phanor's  cabinet, 
And  substituted  one  that  I  possessed 
Exactly  like  it.     I  must  own  to  you 
That  I'm  unutterably  infamous  — 
A  hypocrite  —  a  traitress  to  my  friend  — 
All  this,  and  more,  I  must  admit,  if  you 
Retain  that  talisman  !     Oh,  give  it  me, 
And  let  this  locket  testify  our  love  ! 
The  King  !  The  King  !  The  King  !    I  am  undone  ! 

[Exit  MIRZA  hastily. 
Phil.  Gone,  gone  !  —  and  Philamir,  who  thought 

he  knew 

The  ways  of  woman  well,  had  still  to  learn 
That  in  one  woman's  body  there  is  place 
For  such  a  goodly  show  of  purity, 
And  such  unequalled  treachery  of  heart ! 
Oh,  Zeolide,  for  how  much  infamy 
Have  I  rejected  thine  unequaled  love  ? 

Enter  PHANOR  with  CHRYSAL  and  ZORAM. 
Phan.  Congratulate  me,  I'm  half  mad  with  joy ; 


334  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

Azema  comes  to  tell  me  that  she  found 
The  Queen  and  Gelanor  together  here  — 
Alone  —  at  night ! 

Phil.  Well,  sir,  and  what  of  that  ? 

'Phan.  Nothing  at  all,  my  boy  !     Why  that's  the 

joke. 

Old  Gelanor  has  dandled  Altemire 
Upon  his  aged  knee  five  hundred  times ! 

Phil  What  — lately? 

Phan.  No  !     I  won't  commit  myself 

By  telling  you  how  many  years  ago, 
But  long  before  her  majesty  was  weaned. 

Phil,  (shrugging  his  shoulders).   I  see  no  reason 

to  condole  with  you, 
Because  her  majesty  and  Gelanor 
Were  here  together  —  neither  do  I  see 
Why  should  you  be  congratulated,  sir  ! 

Phan.  You're  very  dull!     The  Queen  has  just 

found  out 

That  I  had  an  appointment  in  this  grove 
To  meet  Azema  —  don't  you  understand  ? 
I  can  retort  and  take  indignant  ground. 
What  was  she  doing  here  with  Gelanor  ? 
You'll  see  !     (Sees  box}     Hallo  !  What's  that  ? 

Phil.  A  talisman. 

It  fell  from  Mirza's  pocket  as  you  came. 

Phan.  The  deuce  it  did  !  Allow  me,  this  is  mine  ! 

(Taking  zV.) 

Phil.  I  know :  she  stole  it  from  your  cabinet, 
She  owned  as  much  ! 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  335 

Phan.  Confound  her  impudence  ! 

Phil.  Oh,  I  have  been  deceived  ! 

Phan.  And  so  have  I ! 

Most  seriously  deceived  !    Hush,  here's  the  Queen, 
And  with  that  gay  deceiver,  Gelanor  ! 
The  talisman  has  turned  up  just  in  time. 

Enter  ALTEMIRE  and  GELANOR,  with  AZEMA  and 
MIRZA. 

So,  madam,  I've  detected  you ! 

Alt  em.  (indignantly).  How,  sir  ? 

Phan.  Never  mind  how  —  and  you  too,  Gelanor. 
Oh,  I'm  ashamed  of  you  !  (Crossing  to  GELANOR.) 

Gelan.  Your  majesty, 

I  don't  know  what  you  mean. 

Phan.  You  bad  old  man ! 

(Affecting  to  weep)  You  whom  I  trusted  so !  (Aside) 

Don't  be  alarmed, 

I'm  not  in  earnest.     (Aloud)  Oh,  it's  infamous  ! 
Why,  let  me  see  —  how  old  are  you  ? 

Gelan.  My  lord, 

If  you  imply 

Phan,  Imply !  (Aside)  Don't  be  a  fool, 

I'm  not  in  earnest ;  I  have  found  the  box ! 
(aloud)  Explain  this  conduct ! 

A  Item.  Sir,  this  is  a  joke  ? 

Phan.  Well,  not  exactly,  madam ;   you've  been 

found 

Philandering  at  night  with  Gelanor. 
Being  within  the  influence  of  these  walls, 


336  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

You're  bound  to  speak  the  truth.     If  you  can  say 
Your  meeting's  innocent,  I'm  satisfied. 

A  Item.  As  innocent  as  truth  itself,  I  swear. 

Phan.  I'm  satisfied  !     Your  hand 

A  Item.  Nay,  hear  me  first. 

I  charge  you  with  appointing  here  to  meet 
Azema ;  you  are  bound  to  tell  the  truth, 
Being  within  the  influence  of  these  walls. 
If  you  can  unreservedly  deny 
This  charge,  I  also  shall  be  satisfied. 

Phan.  Emphatically  I  deny  the  charge ! 

A  Item,   (astounded}.     You  do  ? 

Phan.  I  do !  (Piously)  This  is  the  Home  of 

Truth, 
And  all  are  subject  to  its  influence. 

Altem.  (puzzled}.  But  you  admitted  it  when  you 

confessed 
Your  gallantries  to  me  this  afternoon  ! 

Phan.  Oh,  you've  been  dreaming ! 

Altem.  Do  I  understand 

That  you  deny  that  you  confessed  all  this  ? 

Phan.  Distinctly !  (Piously)  This  is  the  Abode 
of  Truth. 

Altem.  I  have  been  dreaming  !     Phanor,  there's 

my  hand  — 
I've  deeply  wronged  you. 

PJian.  Altemire,  you  have  ! 

But  say  no  more  — we  are  good  friends  again. 

Altem.  Then  you  forgive  me  ? 

Phan.  Heartily  I  do ! 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  337 

A  Item.  I'll  never  be  a  jealous  fool  again. 
Phan.  I'm  very  glad  indeed  to  hear  you  say  so ! 

Enter  ZEOLIDE  —  ALTEMIRE  retires  with  GELA- 
NOR,  and  converses  ri,vith  ZEOLIDE  —  PHILAMIR, 
seeing  ZEOLIDE,  comes  down  abashed. 

Phan.  (to  PHILAMIR).   Well,  and  what's  wrong 
with  you  ? 

Phil.  I've  been  a  fool, 

A  madman,  and  a  true-born  idiot ! 

Phan.  By  the  mysterious  influence  of  this  place, 
I  can  believe  it ! 

Phil.  I  have  given  up 

The  noblest  woman  that  I  ever  knew, 
For  that  abominable  cockatrice 
Who  quitted  me  as  you  arrived. 

Phan.  Well!  well! 

You  may  regain  her  yet. 

Phil.  Impossible ! 

Phan.  Oh,  not  at  all !  there  —  take  this  talisman. 
(ZEOLIDE  overhears  this  speech.) 
With  this  you're  proof  against  the  influence 
That  rules  this  place  ;  you  can  declare  to  her 
That  you  adore  the  very  ground  she  walks, 
And  wallow  in  the  foolish  flummery 
That  used  to  make  you  so  ridiculous. 
She  will  believe  it  all  —  there,  take  it,  boy, 
And  make  good  use  of  it  to  win  her  back. 

Phil.  I'll  use  it,  Phanor,  and  I'll  use  it  well ! 

Zeo.  (aside)  He  takes  the  box.     And  thus   he 
thinks  to  win 


338  THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

The  hand  of  his  forsaken  Zeolide  ! 
Oh,  Philamir,  this  is  contemptible. 
I  think  I  could  have  loved  you,  but  for  this  ! 

Phil.  Dear  Zeolide,  I  hold  a  talisman, 
Enabling  me  to  counteract  the  charm 
That  reigns  within  these  walls.     With  this  in  hand 
I  can  tell  truth  or  falsehood  as  I  please, 
And  you  must  needs  believe  me.     Zeolide, 
I've  learned  to  set  a  value  on  your  love 
Transcending  all  the  riches  of  the  earth  ; 
Yet  would  I  rather  live  without  that  love  — 
A  life  of  self-reproach  without  that  love  — 
Repentant  and  alone  without  that  love  — 
Than  stoop  to  gain  it  by  such  treachery. 
Here  is  the  talisman.  (ZEOLIDE  takes  it.)  No  longer 

armed 

Against  the  sacred  influence  of  Truth, 
I  tell  you  of  my  sorrow  and  my  love 
With  all  the  warmth  of  a  repentant  heart ! 

(Heiresses  ZEOLIDE  to  his  heart  and  kisses  her) 

A  Item,    (indignantly}.    Give   me   that   talisman ! 

(Takes  it)  I  have  a  clew 
To  much  that  was  a  mystery  :  Behold  ! 

(She  breaks  it  —  a  loud  crash  —  all  come  forward. 

Enter  ARIST^US. 

Gtlan.  You  know  not  what  you've  done  !     The 

castle's  charm 

Is  bound  up  with  that  mystic  talisman  ! 
Now  that  the  box  is  broken,  these  fair  walls 


THE  PALACE    OF  TRUTH.  339 

Are  disenchanted  ! 

Phan.  P'raps  it's  quite  as  well. 

Now  that  the  place  has  lost  it's  influence 
We  shall  get  on  much  better.     We  have  learnt 
A  lesson  that  should  last  us  till  we  die — 
We've  learnt  how  matrimonial  constancy 
By  causeless  jealousy  is  sometimes  tried  — 

(Looking  reproachfully  at  ALTEMIRE.) 
A  Item.  How  jealousy  is  sometimes  justified  — 

(Looking  reproachfully  at  PHANOR.) 
Chrys.  How  Zoram  —  music's  vaunted  pioneer  — 
Don't  even  know  his  notes  —  and  has  no  ear ! 
Even  his  cant  expressions  are  the  wrong  ones  ! 
Zor.  I  have  an  ear  ! 
Phan.  (shaking  his  hand}.  You  have  —  two  very 

long  ones  ! 
Palmis.  You've   learnt   to   doubt  the  love  that 

those  profess, 
Who  by  such  love  gain  temporal  success  — 

(Looking  angrily  at  CHRYSAL.) 
Zor.  That     surly     misanthropes,     with     venom 

tainted  — 

Arist.  Are  often  not  as  black  as  they  are  painted ! 
Azema.  To  doubt  all  maids  who  of  their  virtue 

boast : 
That  they're  the  worst  who  moralize  the  most ! 

(Looking  at  MIRZA.) 

Mirza.  That   blushes,  though   they're   most  be 
coming,  yet 
Proclaim,  too  oft,  the  common-place  coquette ! 

(Looking  at  AZEMA. 


340  THE   PALACE    OF  TRUTH. 

I  can  declare,  with  pardonable  pride, 
I  never  blush  ! 

Aztma.  You  couldn't  if  you  tried  ! 

Phil.  Under  the  influence  that  lately  reigned 
Within  these  walls  I  breathed  my  love  unfeigned  ; 
Now  that  that  power  no  longer  reigns  above, 
I  ratify  the  accents  of  my  love. 
Forgive  me,  Zeolide,  my  life,  my  bride  ! 

Zeo.  (very  demurely).  I  love  you,  Philamir  —  be 
satisfied  ! 


TRIAL    BY    JURY: 

tic  Cantata, 


IN  ONE  ACT. 


DRAMATIS    PERSONS. 

THE  LEARNED  JUDGE     MR.  F.  SULLIVAN. 

COUNSEL  FOR  THE  PLAINTIFF. 

THE  DEFENDANT MR.  W.  FISHER. 

FOREMAN  OF  THE  JURY MR.  CAMPBELL. 

USHER MR.  KELLEHER. 

THE  PLAINTIFF ...   Miss  BROMLEY. 

BRIDESMAIDS,  GENTLEMEN  OF  THE  JURY,  &c. 


TRIAL  BY  JURY. 


SCENE.  —  A  Court  of  Justice. 

BARRISTERS,  ATTORNEYS,  and  JURYMEN  discovered 
with  USHER. 

Chorus. 

Hark,  the  hour  of  ten  is  sounding  ! 
Hearts  with  anxious  fears  are  bounding ; 
Hall  of  Justice  crowds  surrounding, 

Breathing  hope  and  fear  — 
For  to-day  in  this  arena, 
Summoned  by  a  stern  subpoena, 
Edwin,  sued  by  Angelina, 

Shortly  will  appear. 
(  The  USHER  marshals  the  JURY  into  Jury-box?) 

Solo,  USHER. 

Now,  Jurymen,  hear  my  advice  — 
All  kinds  of  vulgar  prejudice 

I  pray  you  set  aside  : 
With  stern  judicial  frame  of  mind, 
From  bias  free  of  every  kind, 

This  trial  .must  be  tried. 

343 


344  TRIAL  BY  JURY. 

Chorus. 

From  bias  free  of  every  kind 
This  trial  must  be  tried. 

(During  Choruses,  USHER  says,  fortissimo >,  "  Silend 
in  Court !  ") 

USHER. 

Oh,  listen  to  the  plaintiffs  case  : 
Observe  the  features  of  her  face  — 

The  broken-hearted  bride. 
Condole  with  her  distress  of  mind  — 
From  bias  free  of  every  kind 

This  trial  must  be  tried  ! 

Chorus. 
From  bias  free,  &c. 

USHER. 

And  when  amid  the  plaintiff's  shrieks, 
The  ruffianly  defendant  speaks  — 

Upon  the  other  side  ; 
What  he  may  say  you  needn't  mind  — 
From  bias  free  of  every  kind 

This  trial  must  be  tried. 

Chorus. 
From  bias  free,  &c. 


TRIAL  BY  JURY.  345 

Enter  DEFENDANT. 

DEFENDANT,  (recit.). 
Is  this  the  Court  of  the  Exchequer  ? 

ALL. 
It  is! 

DEFENDANT  (aside). 

Be  firm,  my  moral  pecker, 
Your  evil  star's  in  the  ascendant ! 

ALL. 
Who  are  you  ? 

DEFENDANT. 
I'm  the  defendant ! 

Chorus  of  JURYMEN  (shaking  their  fists). 

Monster,  dread  our  damages  ! 
We're  the  jury, 
Dread  our  fury ! 

DEFENDANT. 

Hear  me,  hear  me,  if  you  please, 

These  are  very  strange  proceedings  — 

For,  permit  me  to  remark, 

On  the  merits  of  my  pleadings, 

You're  at  present  in  the  dark. 


346  TRIAL  BY  JURY. 

(DEFENDANT  beckons  to  JURYMEN  —  they  leave  the 
box,  and  gather  round  him  as  they  sing  the  fol 
lowing}  :  — 

Ha  !  ha !  ha  ! 

That's  a  very  true  remark  — 
On  the  merits  of  your  pleadings, 
We're  entirely  in  the  dark ! 
Ha!  ha!— ha!  ha! 


Song,  DEFENDANT. 

When  first  my  old,  old  love  I  knew, 

My  bosom  swelled  with  joy  ; 
My  riches  at  her  feet  I  threw  — 

I  was  a  love-sick  boy  ! 
No  terms  seemed^extravagant 

Upon  her  to  employ  — 
I  used  to  mope,  and  sigh,  and  pant, 

Just  like  a  love-sick  boy  ! 


But  joy  incessant  palls  the  sense  ; 

And  love,  unchanged,  will  cloy, 
And  she  became  a  bore  intense 

Unto  her  love-sick  boy ! 
With  fitful  glimmer  burnt  my  flame, 

And  I  grew  cold  and  coy, 
At  last,  one  morning,  I  became 

Another's  love-sick  boy  ! 


TRIAL  BY  JURY.  347 

Chorus  of  JURYMEN  (advancing  stealthily). 

Oh,  I  was  like  that  when  a  lad  ; 

A  shocking  young  scamp  of  a  rover ! 

I  behaved  like  a  regular  cad  ; 

But  that  sort  of  thing  is  all  over. 

I'm  now  a  respectable  chap, 

And  shine  with  a  virtue  resplendent, 

An  therefore  I  haven't  a  scrap 

Of  sympathy  with  the  defendant ! 

He  shall  treat  us  with  awe, 

If  there  isn't  a  flaw, 
Singing  so  merrily  —  Trial-la-law  ! 
Trial-la-law  —  Trial-la-law ! 
Singing  so  merrily  —  Trial-la-law  ! 


Recit.  USHER. 

Silence  in  Court,  and  all  attention  lend. 
Behold  your  Judge  !     In  due  submission  bend 

Enter  JUDGE  on  Bench. 

Chorus. 

\ 


All  hail,  great  Judge 
To  your  bright  rays 

We  never  grudge 
Ecstatic  praise. 

All  hail ! 


348  TRIAL  BY  JURY. 

May  each  decree 

As  statute  rank, 
And  never  be 

Reversed  in  bane. 
All  hail ! 

Recit.  JUDGE. 

For  these  kind  words  accept  my  thanks,  I  pray ! 
A  Breach  of  Promise  we've  to  try  to-day  ; 
But  firstly,  if  the  time  you'll  not  begrudge, 
I'll  tell  you  how  I  came  to  be  a  judge. 

ALL. 
He'll  tell  us  how  he  came  to  be  a  judge ! 

JUDGE. 
Let  me  speak. 

ALL. 

Let  him  speak. 

JUDGE. 
Let  me  speak. 

ALL. 

Let  him  speak.     Hush  !  hush  ! !  hush  ! ! ! 
(fortissimo}  He'll  tell  us  how  he  came  to  be  a  judge  ! 


TRIAL  BY  JURY.  349 

Song,  JUDGE. 

When  I,  good  friends,  was  called  to  the  bar, 

I'd  an  appetite  fresh  and  hearty, 
But  I  was,  as  many  young  barristers  are, 

An  impecunious  party  : 
I'd  a  swallow-tail  coat  of  a  beautiful  blue  — 

A  brief  which  I  bought  of  a  booby  — 
A  couple  of  shirts  and  a  collar  or  two, 

And  a  ring  that  looked  like  a  ruby. 

Chorus. 
A  couple  of  shirts,  &c. 

JUDGE. 

In  Westminster  Hall  I  danced  a  dance, 

Like  a  semi-despondent  fury  ; 
For  I  thought  I  should  never  hit  on  a  chance 

Of  addressing  a  British  jury  — 
But  I  soon  got  tired  of  third-class  journeys 

And  dinners  of  bread  and  water ; 
So  I  fell  in  love  with  a  rich  attorney's 

Elderly,  ugly  daughter. 

Chorus. 
So  he  fell  in  love,  &c. 

JUDGE. 

The  rich  attorney  he  jumped  with  joy, 
And  replied  to  my  fond  professions : 

3° 


350  TRIAL  BY  JURY. 

"  You  shall  reap  the  reward  of  your  pluck,  my  boy, 
"  At  the  Bailey  and  Middlesex  Sessions. 

"  You'll  soon  get  used  to  her  looks/'  said  he, 
"  And  a  very  nice  girl  you'll  find  her  ! 

"  She  may  very  well  pass  for  forty-three 
"  In  the  dusk,  with  a  light  behind  her ! 

Chorus. 
"  She  may  very  well,  &c." 

JUDGE. 

The  rich  attorney  was  good  as  his  word  : 

The  briefs  came  trooping  gayly, 
And  every  day  my  voice  was  heard 

At  the  Sessions  or  Ancient  Bailey. 
All  thieves  who  could  my  fees  afford 

Relied  on  my  orations, 
And  many  a  burglar  I've  restored 

To  his  friends  and  his  relations. 

Chorus. 
And  many  a  burglar,  &c. 

JUDGE. 

At  length  I  became  as  rich  as  the  Gurneys  — 

An  incubus  then  I  thought  her, 
So  I  threw  over  that,  rich  attorney's 

Elderly,  ugly  daughter. 


TRIAL  BY  JURY.  351 

The  rich  attorney  my  character  high 

Tried  vainly  to  disparage  — 
And  now,  if  you  please,  I'm  ready  to  try 

This  breach  of  promise  of  marriage  ! 

Chorus. 
And  now  if  you  please,  &c. 

JUDGE. 
For  now  I  am  a  Judge  ! 

ALL.' 
And  a  good  Judge  too ! 

JUDGE. 
Yes,  now  I  am  a  Judge  ! 

ALL. 
And  a  good  Judge  too ! 

JUDGE. 

Though  all  my  law  is  fudge, 
Yet  I'll  never,  never  budge, 
But  I'll  live  and  die  a  Judge ! 

ALL. 
And  a  good  Judge  too  ! 


352  TRIAL   BY  JURY. 

JUDGE  (pianissimo). 
It  was  managed  by  a  job  ! 

ALL. 
And  a  good  job  too  ! 

JUDGE. 
It  was  managed  by  a  job  ! 

ALL. 
And  a  good  job  too  ! 

JUDGE. 

It  is  patent  to  the  mob, 
That  my  being  made  a  nob 
Was  effected  by  a  job. 

ALL. 
And  a  good  job  too  ! 

Enter  COUNSEL  for  PLAINTIFF. 

COUNSEL  (recit.). 
Swear  thou  the  Jury  ! 

USHER. 
Kneel,  Jurymen,  oh  !  kneel ! 


TRIAL  BY  JURY.  353 


(All  the  Jury  kneel  in  the  Jury-box  and  so  are  hid 
den  from  audience.) 

USHER. 

Oh,  will  you  swear  by  yonder  skies, 
Whatever  question  may  arise 
'Twixt  rich  and  poor —  'twixt  low  and  high, 
That  you  will  well  and  truly  try  ? 

JURY  (raising  their  hands,  which  alone  are  visible]. 

To  all  of  this  we  make  reply, 
By  the  dull  slate  of  yonder  sky : 
That  we  will  well  and  truly  try. 

(All  rise  with  the  last  note,  both  hands  in  air.) 

Recit.  USHER. 

This  blind  devotion  is  indeed  a  crusher  — 
Pardon  the  tear-drop  of  the  simple  Usher ! 

(He  weeps) 

Recit.  COUNSEL. 
Call  the  plaintiff ! 

Recit.  USHER. 
Oh,  Angelina !  Angelina !  !  Come  thou  into  Court. 

Enter  the   BRIDESMAIDS,  each  bearing  two  palm 
branches,  their  arms  crossed  on  their  bosoms, 

and  rose-wreaths  on  their  arms. 

30* 


354  TRIAL  BY  JURY. 

Chorus  of  BRIDESMAIDS. 

Comes  the  broken  flower  — 

Comes  the  cheated  maid  — 
Though  the  tempest  lower, 

Rain  and  cloud  will  fade ! 
Take,  oh  maid,  these  posies : 

Though  thy  beauty  rare 
Shame  the  blushing  roses, 

They  are  passing  fair  ! 

Wear  the  flowers  till  they  fade : 
Happy  be  thy  life,  oh  maid! 

(The  JUDGE,  having  taken  a  great  fancy  to  FIRST 
BRIDESMAID,  sends  her  a  note  by  USHER,  which 
she  reads,  kisses  rapturously r,  and  places  in  her 
bosom) 

Solo,  ANGELINA. 

O'er  the  season  vernal, 

Time  may  cast  a  shade  ; 
Sunshine,  if  eternal, 

Makes  the  roses  fade ! 
Time  may  do  his  duty ; 

Let  the  thief  alone  — 
Winter  hath  a  beauty 

That  is  all  his  own. 

Fairest  days  are  sun  and  shade: 
I  am  no  unhappy  maid ! 

(By  this  time  the  JUDGE  has  transferred  his  admi 
ration  to  ANGELINA.) 


TRIAL  BY  JURY.  355 

Chorus  of  BRIDESMAIDS. 
Comes  the  broken  flower,  &c. 

(During  Chorus  ANGELINA  collects  wreaths  of  roses 
from  BRIDESMAIDS  and  gives  them  to  the  JURY, 
who  put  them  on,  and  wear  them  during  the 
rest  of  the  piece?) 

JUDGE  (to  ASSOCIATE.) 

Oh,  never,  never,  never,  since  I  joined  the  human 

race, 
Saw  I  so  exquisitely  fair  a  face. 

THE  JURY  (shaking  their  forefingers  at  JUDGE). 
Ah,  sly  dog  !     Ah,  sly  dog  ! 

JUDGE  (to  JURY). 
How  say  you,  is  she  not  designed  for  capture  ? 

FOREMAN  (after  consulting  with  the  JURY). 
We've  but  one  word,  my  lord,  and  that  is  —  Rapture ! 

PLAINTIFF  (courtesy ing). 
Your  kindness,  gentlemen,  quite  overpowers  ! 

THE  JURY. 
We  love  you  fondly,  and  would  make  you  ours  ! 

THE    BRIDESMAIDS    (shaking   their  forefingers   at 

JURY). 
Ah,  sly  dogs !     Ah,  s.ly  dogs  ! 


356  TRIAL   BY  JURY. 

COUNSEL  for  PLAINTIFF  (recit!) 

May  it  please  you,  my  lud ! 
Gentlemen  of  the  Jury ! 

Aria. 

With  a  sense  of  deep  emotion, 
I  approach  this  painful  case ; 

For  I  never  had  a  notion 

That  a  man  could  be  so  base, 

Or  deceive  a  girl  confiding, 

Vows,  etccztera,  deriding. 

ALL. 

He  deceived  a  girl  confiding, 
Vows,  etccztera,  deriding. 

(PLAINTIFF /#//.$•  sobbing  on  COUNSEL'S  breast ',  and 
remains  there). 

COUNSEL. 

See  my  interesting  client, 
Victim  of  a  heartless  wile  ! 

See  the  traitor  all  defiant 
Wears  a  supercilious  smile  ! 

Sweetly  smiled  my  client  on  him, 

Coyly  woo'd  and  gently  won  him  ! 

ALL. 
Sweetly  smiled,  &c. 


TRIAL  BY  JURY.  357 

COUNSEL. 

Swiftly  fled  each  honeyed  hour 
Spent  with  this  unmanly  male ! 

Camberwell  became  a  bower, 
Peckham  an  Arcadian  Vale, 

Breathing  concentrated  otto  !  — 

An-  existence  d  la  Watteau. 

ALL. 
Bless  us,  concentrated  otto  !  &c. 

COUNSEL   (coining  down  with  PLAINTIFF,  who  is 
still  sobbing-  on  his  breast}. 

Picture,  then,  my  client  naming 

And  insisting  on  the  day  : 
Picture  him  excuses  framing  — 

Going  from  her  far  away  ; 
Doubly  criminal  to  do  so, 
For  the  maid  had  bought  her  trousseau  ! 

ALL. 
Doubly  criminal,  &c. 

COUNSEL  (to  PLAINTIFF,  who  weeps). 
Cheer  up,  my  pretty  —  oh,  cheer  up  ! 

JURY. 
Cheer  up,  cheer  up,  we  love  you  ! 


358  TRIAL  BY  JURY. 

(COUNSEL  leads  PiLAiNTiFFfvndfymte  Witness-box ; 
he  takes  a  tender  leave  of  her  and  resumes  his 
place  in  Court?) 

(PLAINTIFF  reels,  as  if  about  to  faintl) 

JUDGE. 

That  she  is  reeling 
Is  plain  to  me  ! 

FOREMAN. 

If  faint  you're  feeling, 
Recline  on  me  ! 

(She  falls  sobbing  on  to  the  foreman  s  breast)) 

PLAINTIFF  (feebly). 

I  shall  recover 
If  left  alone. 

ALL  (shaking  their  fists  at  DEFENDANT). 

Oh,  perjured  lover, 
Atone  !  atone  ! 

FOREMAN. 
Just  like  a  father 

I  wish  to  be.     (Kissing  her.) 

JUDGE  (approaching  her). 
Or,  if  you'd  rather, 
Recline  on  me ! 


TRIAL  BY  JURY.  359 

(She  staggers  on  to  bench,  sits  down  by  the  JUDGE, 
and  falls  sobbing  on  his  breast?) 

COUNSEL. 

Oh  !  fetch  some  water 
From  far  Cologne ! 

ALL. 

For  this  sad  slaughter 
Atone !  atone  ! 

JURY  (shaking  fists  at  DEFENDANT). 

Monster,  monster,  dread  our  fury, 
There's  the  Judge,  and  we're  the  Jury  ! 

Song,  DEFENDANT. 

Oh,  gentlemen,  listen,  I  pray, 

Though  I  own  that  my  heart  has  been  ranging, 
Of  nature  the  laws  I  obey, 

For  nature  is  constantly  changing. 
The  moon  in  her  phases  is  found, 

The  time  and  the  wind  and  the  weather, 
The  months  in  succession' come  round, 

And  you  don't  find  two  Mondays  together. 
Consider  the  moral,  I  pray, 

Nor  bring  a  young  fellow  to  sorrow, 
Who  loves  this  young  lady  to-day, 
And  loves  that  young  lady  to-morrow. 


360  TRIAL   BY  JURY. 

BRIDESMAIDS    (rushing  forward,   and  kneeling  to 
JURY). 

Consider  the  moral,  &c. 

You  can  not  eat  breakfast  all  day, 

Nor  is  it  the  act  of  a  sinner, 
When  breakfast  is  taken  away, 

To  turn  your  attention  to  dinner ; 
And  it's  not  in  the  range  of  belief, 

That  you  could  hold  him  as  a  glutton, 
Who,  when  he  is  tired  of  beef, 
Determines  to  tackle  the  mutton. 
But  this  I  am  ready  to  say, 

If  it  will  appease  their  sorrow, 
I'll  marry  one  lady  to-day, 

And  I'll  marry  the  other  to-morrow. 

BRIDESMAIDS  (rushing  forward  as  before}. 
But  this  he  is  ready  to  say,  &c. 

JUDGE  (rccit.} 

That  seems  a  reasonable  proposition, 
To  which  I  think  your  client  may  agree. 

ALL. 
Oh,  Judge  discerning ! 

COUNSEL. 

But,  I  submit,  my  lord,  with  all  submission, 
To  marry  two  at  once  is  Burglaree  ! 


TRIAL  BY  JURY.  361 

(Referring  to  law  book?) 

In  the  reign  of  James  the  Second, 

It  was  generally  reckoned 

As  a  very  serious  crime 

To  marry  two  wives  at  one  time. 

(Hands  book  up  to  JUDGE,  who  reads  it.) 

ALL. 
Oh,  man  of  learning  ! 

Quartette. 
JUDGE. 

A  nice  dilemma  we  have  here, 
That  calls  for  all  our  wit : 

COUNSEL. 

And  at  this  stage  it  don't  appear 
That  we  can  settle  it. 

DEFENDANT. 

If  I  to  wed  the  girl  am  loth 
A  breach  'twill  surely  be ! 

PLAINTIFF. 

And  if  he  goes  and  marries  both 
It  counts  as  Burglaree  ! 

ALL. 

A  nice  dilemma,  &c. 
31 


362  TRIAL  BY  JURY. 

Duet,  PLAINTIFF  and  DEFENDANT. 
PLAINTIFF  (embracing  DEFENDANT  rapturously). 

I  love  him  —  I  love  him  —  with  fervor  unceasing, 

I  worship  and  madly  adore  ; 
My  blind  adoration  is  always  increasing, 

My  loss  I  shall  ever  deplore. 
Oh,  see  what  a  blessing  —  what  love  and  caressing 

I've  lost,  and  remember  it,  pray, 
When  you  I'm  addressing,  are  busy  assessing 

The  damages  Edwin  must  pay. 

DEFENDANT  (repelling  her  furiously}. 

I  smoke  like  a  furnace  —  I'm  always  in  liquor, 

A  ruffian  —  a  bully  —  a  sot. 

I'm  sure  I  should  thrash  her  —  perhaps  I  should 
kick  her, 

I  am  such  a  very  bad  lot ! 
I'm  not  prepossessing,  as  you  may  be  guessing, 

She  couldn't  endure  me  a  day  ! 
Recall  my  professing  when  you  are  assessing 

The  damages  Edwin  must  pay  ! 

(She  clings  to  him  passionately ;  he  drags  her  round 
stage,  and  flings  her  to  the  ground.} 

JURY. 

We  would  be  fairly  acting, 
But  this  is  most  distracting  ! 


TRIAL  BY  JURY.  363 

JUDGE  (recit.). 

The  question,  gentlemen,  is  one  of  liquor  ; 

You  ask  for  guidance  —  this  is  my  reply : 
If  he,  when  tipsy,  would  assault  and  kick  her, 

Let's  make  him  tipsy,  gentlemen,  and  try  ! 

COUNSEL. 

With  all  respect 
I  do  object! 

ALL. 

With  all  respect 
We  do  object! 

DEFENDANT. 
I  don't  object! 

ALL. 
We  do  object ! 

JUDGE  (tossing-  his  books  and  papers  about). 

All  the  legal  furies  seize  you  ! 
No  proposal  seems  to  please  you, 
I  can't  stop  up  here  all  day, 
I  must  shortly  go  away. 


364  TRIAL  BY  JURY. 

Barristers,  and  you,  attorneys, 
Set  out  on  your  homeward  journeys ; 
Put  your  briefs  upon  the  shelf, 
I  will  marry  her  myself ! 

(He  comes  down  from  Bench  to  floor  of  Court.     He 
embraces  ANGELINA.) 

Finale. 

PLAINTIFF. 

Oh,  joy  unbounded ! 
With  wealth  surrounded, 
The  knell  is  sounded 

Of  grief  and  woe. 

COUNSEL. 

With  love  devoted 
On  you  he's  doted : 
To  castle  moated 

Away  they  go ! 

DEFENDANT. 

I  wonder  whether 
They'll  live  together 
In  marriage  tether 

In  manner  true  ? 


TRIAL  BY  JURY.  365 

USHER. 

It  seems  to  me,  sir, 
Of  such  as  she,  sir, 
A  judge  is  he,  sir, 

A  good  judge  too. 

CHORUS. 
It  seems  to  me,  sir,  &c. 

JUDGE. 
Oh,  yes,  I  am  a  Judge. 

ALL. 
And  a  good  Judge  too  ! 

JUDGE. 

Oh,  yes,  I  am  a  Judge. 
* 

ALL. 

And  a  good  Judge  too ! 

JUDGE. 

Though  homeward  as  you  trudge, 
You  declare  my  law  is  fudge, 
Yet  of  beauty  I'm  a  judge. 


366  TRIAL  BY  JURY. 

ALL. 
And  a  good  judge  too  ! 

(JUDGE  and  PLAINTIFF  dance  back  on  to  the  Bench  — 
the  BRIDESMAIDS  take  the  eight  garlands  of 
roses  from  behind  the  Judges  desk  ((where  one 
end  of  them  is  fastened}  and  drazv  them  across 

floor  of  Court,  so  that  they  radiate  from  the  desk. 
Two  plaster  Cupids  in  bar  wigs  descend  from 

flies.     Red  fire} 


THE   END. 


Franklin  Press :  Rand,  Avery,  &  Co.,  Boston. 


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LD  21-100r, 


Berkeley 


GENERAL  LIBRARY- U.C.  BERKELEY 


8000^85575 


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